


Peonies

by therosyhours



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I just really really love Julian Devorak okay?, I swear, It's going to be a while before the title makes sense, Kissing, Love, Magic, Multi, Romance, Sensuality, Sex, Sexuality, but it will be worth it, kinda sorta?, lol, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 259,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therosyhours/pseuds/therosyhours
Summary: Julian’s lips curl into an easy smile and I feel my breath grow heavier under his gaze.  He’s standing close enough to me that I feel his breath when he speaks.“You really are a beautiful little creature,” he whispers, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face, “And too sweet by far to say such a thing.”“Oh, I…. Thank you…” I whisper, averting my gaze humbly and trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach.“I tell you you’re beautiful and you thank me,” he looks at me with a gentle smile, “If I told you that you’re dazzling, would you blush?  If I told you you’re exquisite, would you tremble?”I am trembling now.  He draws my chin up with gentle fingers so that I look him in the eye as he tentatively caresses my cheek.“Oh Gods, Sevrina… If I somehow found the words to tell you how utterly resplendent you are, would you end my aching misery and kiss me?”





	1. The Magician and the High Priestess

**Author's Note:**

> Peonies follows my apprentice, Sevrina, through Julian's route of the Arcana visual novel. I have taken text from the game and fleshed it out into a fuller story with extra scenes, dialogue and inner monologue. It does deviate from canon somewhat, so I've labeled it as a "slight au." 
> 
> Thank you to anyone that stops by to read it, I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

I am a student of the magical arts.  My master is Asra, the fortune teller.  I know nothing of his past, and nothing of my own prior to the last three years. 

Asra is all I have in the way of company, companionship or family.   We are not blood relatives, but he calls me his sister all the same, and he means it. He is kind, cheerful and protective of me. He knows where I’ve come from, but when I try to regain a memory, my head splits in unbearable pain.  I am still searching for answers as I learn.  He says I must be patient.  He is afraid that the pain means learning too much at once will seriously harm me.

My earliest memories are of his face and voice.  He was calming me as he cooled my back, which had been badly burned, enough to allow him to put an aloe salve onto it before being bandaged.  Another silhouette was with him, but Asra’s face was all I could see for the bright light and blinding pain.  He knew me before the accident which burned me and veiled my past.  He cared for me as I recovered.  I could not be more proud to have him as my Brother. 

We live together in a small flat above our shop.  Asra tells fortunes and crafts charms, and I work mostly with herbs in shop.  Asra has been teaching me to read tarot cards to expand my abilities, and has helped me to gain control over my natural magic to cast spells.

Asra has packed a bag and is leaving.  I don’t know how long he will be away, and I don’t know where he is going.  He’s often gone, sometimes for stretches of weeks.  When he’s gone, I feel lost, and my missing memories seem to gape wider, howling with the silence of important things missing, and I am engulfed in loneliness.  The frustration bites deeper when I have only my own thoughts for company.  It is nigh unbearable.

“I’ll miss you,” Asra says.  His violet eyes peer from under his ice white curls, and looks at me sombrely.  It’s the dead of a moonless night, the right time for the beginning of a journey, according to him.  I don’t want him to go, and he knows it.  I have too many questions he has the answers to.

“Here,” he says, as he gathers the last of his things.  “Take this.  For you to practice with while I’m gone.”

He hands me a small parcel, wrapped in shimmering purple fabric.

“What is it?” I ask softly.  A distraction would be most welcome.

“My tarot deck,” He says with a warm smile.

“Do you think I’m ready, Master?”

He shakes his head.  “You’re still calling me that… I wish you’d stop.  I am not your master, I’m your Brother.  As for your readiness, you know I can’t answer that for you, Sevrina.  You’ve made incredible progress, but you still won’t let go of your doubt.  Do _you_ think you’re ready?”

“Why don’t we ask the cards?” I offer.  Asra smiles and there is a twinkle to his lively eyes.

“Excellent suggestion,” He affirms with a nod.  “It’s been a while since we’ve practiced.”

“Because you’re always gone?” I ask sadly.  It’s been lonely here with only my questions, that empty ache in my chest in place of what’s missing, and he’s leaving again.

“Maybe,” he agrees, “But, I’m here now. Let’s see how powerful you’ve become.”

Oh!  Something brushes along my ankle, smooth and cool.  I look down to the floor and grin in spite of myself. The lavender-coloured serpent is Faust, Asra’s familiar.  She’s pleased to see me, I think.

“We’re not alone,” Asra says with a smile. As he bends to pick her up from the floor, letting her coil around his arm.  “Yes, Faust, I will be back soon.  Now, If we’re all here, then let’s begin.”

He opens the heavy jacquard curtain into the room where he reads fortunes for clients.  We sit at the small table, and he illuminates an oil lamp with just a snap of his magician’s fingers.  I take a deep breath and sweep my inky hair back behind my shoulders, out of the way so that I can shuffle the deck.  His gaze follows the colourful cards as they slip through my pale fingers. I lay three out on the table, and turn one over.  The High Priestess.

“And what is she telling you?” Asra asks me.  He leans close, expectant. “Is she speaking to you now?”

When the cards speak to me, it isn’t in any human tongue.  Nonetheless, when my mind is clear, the answer comes to me.

“She feels divided from you,” I mutter softly.

“She does?” asks Asra.

I nod.  “Yes, but she is patient.  She has made great sacrifices, and she will wait as long as she must, but it hurts her more than she tells you.  Master, you must reconnect with her… She’s waiting for your familiarity… She wants you, and she wants—”

A sharp knocking startles all three of us.  A customer?  At this hour?

“Did you forget to put the lantern out again?”  Asra teases, “Just as well… I can’t stay any longer.  Take care of yourself, Sister, and I’ll see you soon.”

He still has something to say, but he won’t say it.  With a flourish of his arm, He is in his travelling clothes.

“Until we meet again,” he says, and with a parting kiss to my cheek, he slips soundlessly through the curtains and out the back door.  Just like that, he’s gone.

The knock repeats.  I still can’t believe there’s a customer at this hour—and an impatient one, by the sound of it.  I look through the peephole and see a tall, fine-looking woman.  She’s wearing emeralds and very fine clothes, and wringing her hands.  I open the door.

“Forgive me for the hour,” a low, dulcet voice greets me, and the figure steps inside and begins to unwind the shawl from her neck. “But I will not suffer another sleepless night.”

The woman is tall and regal, with lovely, sienna skin.  The fabrics she wears are very fine, and she wears many pieces of exquisite jewellery. Her eyes are edged in kohl, striking against her glowing complexion.  Her hands are intricately hennaed. She is graceful and intimidating all at once.

“Please,” she says in an exasperated voice, “You must read the cards for me.”

She finishes unwinding her shawl and I can see her entire face at last.  My heart leaps into my throat. 

The Countess.

“I’ve been told you’re the most dependable magician in the city,” she whispers.

“You’ve come to the right place,” I mutter, trying not to betray my nervousness.

“So I’m told,” she says with a weak smile as she brushes a lock of her rich purple hair to the back of her head, “Your reputation precedes you.  Beggars and nobles alike—the people of this city whisper your name in wonder.  Though in my dream, you were… different.  No matter, I come with a proposal.”

“Dream?  I ask, wondering what has been plaguing her.

“Yes,” she sighs unhappily, “An unwelcome ability I have come to possess.  My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold. I rarely remember them until they manifest, but tonight… the future I saw, the one that brought me to you…is one I will not allow to pass.  Tell me, magician, will you hear my proposal?”

“Proposal?”

She laughs softly.  “Not very talkative, are you?  Nervous, perhaps?  You needn’t be—I require very little of you.”

I try to stand up straight, but my confidence is shaky under her authoritative gaze.

“What exactly is it that you… _require_ of me, Countess?”

The Countess smiles wryly.  “Don’t be so sheepish.  Think of it as an invitation.  Be my guest at the palace for a short while.  You will be afforded every luxury, of course.  It is as my dreams foretold.  I ask only that you bring your skill, and the Arcana.” 

“I am at your service, Countess,” I agree.  She seems troubled, and it is my nature to help.

She smiles. “You’ve chosen wisely, magician…. You will tell me your name, won’t you?”

I snap to attention, feeling stupid as sin.  “Yes, Countess, forgive me… My name is Sevrina.”

“Sevrina,” the Countess repeats.  “I will alert the guard to expect you tomorrow evening. But before that, I want to see these talents of yours for myself.  Shall we do a reading?”

Under her imperious gaze, I usher her to the humble backroom.  The Countess seats herself across from me.  Her eyes dart around the small space before falling on the cards on the table between us.

“Go on,” She says stonily.

As I shuffle the deck, she folds her hands before her and closes her eyes.  I lay three cards on the table, and turn the first.

“The magician…” I say, as I reveal him. 

The Countess at first looks surprised, but then smiles coolly.  “How appropriate,” she murmurs, peering down at the card, studying his face. “And what does he hold for me?”

My mind is clear, and the answer comes to me as easily as ever.

“You have a plan,” I say.

“Go on,” she replies.

“One that’s long in the making.  Years upon years.  Now, you seek to set it in motion.”

“And?”  She asks expectantly.  “Should I move?”

Her dark mahogany eyes are piercing, flashing brilliantly in the lamplight.

“Yes,” I affirm.  “Act now.  Everything has fallen into place.”

She smiles coolly.  “Say no more.”

Abruptly, she stands, giving the card one last glance.  I’m barely on my feet when she throws back the curtains, striding purposefully back into the shop proper.

“Your fortunes are simple,” she explains, “Much the same as the others I’ve heard, and yet… You are the first to pique my interest.”

By the time I’ve emerged, the Countess is at the doorway, winding the shawl around her face.

“Ahem,” she says expectantly.

I nearly trip over my feet in the haste to open the door.  The Countess looks amused.

“Until tomorrow, then, Sevrina,” she says.  “Pleasant dreams.”

With that, she glides past me and out into the night.  For a moment, I’m frozen, staring after her figure long after it has vanished into the mist, flanked by two sturdy guards.  What could the Countess want with me, a mere apprentice?  And all that talk of my _reputation_ … Could it be that she mistook me for…

“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” calls a stranger’s voice from inside.  I turn and my eyes dart around the room, chasing shadows.  I can find no one.

“Behind you,” the voice calls again, with a tone of impatience.  I spin around and see a figure of a man, quite tall and slim, wearing a birdlike mask.  When he sees my face, his hand flies to his temple and I hear him hiss as though it hurts.

“This is the witch’s lair,” he says sharply, “So who might _you_ be?”

My heart starts racing as the masked intruder advances.

“Wh-who’s asking?” I call back, trying to screw up my courage.  It’s enough to give him pause.

“I’m asking,” he replies, “And I’d rather not do it again.  But if it’ll make you talk…”

The squeal of his leather glove against the mask makes me wince as the stranger bares his face.  His head is topped with a mass of thick, auburn curls.  He wears an eye patch over his right eye.  High cheekbones, and a cool, grey eye.  My head twinges with the presence of an unreachable memory.  Do I recognize those angular features?  Yes, I’ve definitely seen him rendered on criminal posters in the city recently, that must be it...

“Well, I can tell by the look on your face,” he tuts. “Shock, horror!  You know who I am, don’t you?”

I’ve never met him but I do know who he is, and my heart goes on beating hard.  This man… they used to call him…

“Doctor Jules?”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, as if I’ve caught him off guard.  “Well, I… I haven’t heard that name in years… Actually it’s Doctor _Devorak_.  Only the Count called me _Doctor Jules…_ I hated it... _._ ” and then, with a change in humour, as if remembering his purpose here, “Quickly now, where is the witch?”

“Master Asra is gone,” I reply, holding my hands up in a helpless gesture.  “I don’t know where.  He never tells.”

“Master, is it?” he asks, studying me.  “Ahem… Well, I won’t pry into your personal affairs.  But if you don’t know, and I don’t know…”

He is tall and could easily overpower me, but that isn’t what makes my heart beat so fast.

“Why don’t we ask your magic cards?”

“What?”

“That is what that room in the back is for, isn’t it?”

I give a hesitant nod, unsure of the motives behind this request.  Is he mocking me? Or is he serious?

He holds back the curtain for me.  “After you, then.”

“Will you take any tea?” I ask stupidly, hoping my hospitality will soften this harshness that, something tells me, isn’t his true character.  I feel in the moment he is consumed by frustration, not himself.  “It won’t take but a minute to boil the kettle.”

“No,” he says with a smile threatening to twitch up the corner of his mouth.  “I won’t take tea, but thank you, that’s… unnecessarily generous.”

His hand flies to his temple and he winces, but recovers quickly. 

“Are you alright?” I ask.  “Are you in pain?  You’ve flinched more than once…”

“It’s fine,” he mutters.  “Pay no attention.”

I take a step toward him and reach up to place my hand on his forehead.  This takes him by obvious surprise, yet he doesn’t pull away.  His eyes flutter closed momentarily and I could almost swear he presses involuntarily into my touch.

“You’re not feverish,” I whisper as I pull back.  “But I could give you something for headaches.”

The Doctor stares at me, bewildered.  “That isn’t necessary,” he says softly, looking at me intensely.

“Forgive me… Of course, you’re a doctor… I…”

He lifts his hands in a gesture intended to quiet me.

“It’s alright,” he says.  “You’re only doing what you’re used to doing.”

“Are you sure you won’t take any tea?”

“No, I won’t take any tea, thank you…. You’re excessively kind.”

I nod and gesture to a chair.  Why is my heart still in my throat?  I don’t feel exactly afraid, and the shock of his sudden appearance is worn off.  And yet, my heart races when I pass close to him to take hold of the curtain and motion for him to step into the Tarot room…

“After you,” I say, “I insist.  You’re my guest.”

Smiling slightly, the Doctor steps into the room and studies the surroundings a moment, then drops himself into the reading chair, looming fearsomely over the table.

“Lovely décor.  Reminds me of…” he mutters, then holds his head and grimaces again. As I carefully take my seat, his intense gaze is tracking my every move.  “Forgive me… Have I met you before?” he asks.

I shake my head as I take my seat. “No.  We’ve never met.”

He shakes the thought from his head.  “For a moment, I thought….  No matter.”

I look to him, wide-eyed, trying to anticipate what he wants from me.

“Go on,” he says, somewhat softly. “No need to be shy.  I mean you no harm.  Don’t be frightened.”

I try to steady my heartbeat as I shuffle the cards.  I feel his eyes roaming me.  It makes me feel warm inside, flustered, frustrated.  My stomach is full of butterflies.

I lay three cards on the table, and turn the first.  As soon as I see it, my mind starts racing.  Nothing comes to me but the pounding of blood in my ears.

“Death,” I whisper.

“Death?” he starts.  Then smiles.  “ _Death_?”  He barks with uncontrollable laughter, sharp as ice.  “You’ve got to be joking.”

I jolt as his hands strike the table, and he rises to his feet.

“Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away,”   he says bitterly.  “She has no interest in an abomination like me.”

He makes his way out of the Tarot room with purpose.  Overcome with confusion, I follow at the Doctor’s heels.  His expression is stony.

“Are you alright?” I ask suddenly.  “Do you need help?”

The hard look on his face softens in the wake of my question.

“Do I need help?” He repeats forlornly.  “Not any help you can give me, I’m afraid.”

“If there’s something I can—”

“You’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says, now serious and hushed.  “Your witch friend will be back for you.  He’s taught you his tricks.  You may even say that he cares for you. But when he returns?”  He takes up his mask and stares into its glassy red eyes. “Seek me out.  For your own sake.  That creature is far more dangerous than you know, and I’d hate to think of him making you suffer.”

He takes a step toward the door.

“Wait,” I say, making him stop.  I rush to my shelf of herbs and pick up two sachets, and then hurry back to the Doctor’s side by the door.

“This is dried harpweed,” I say, tapping the first sachet.  “Brew it like tea and it will ease your headaches without dulling your wits.  But if the pain keeps you from sleeping, brew it with this in equal parts—it’s dried pulp from a whitethistle bulb, and it’s sedating.  Neither taste all that nice, but a little honey will cover it.”

He looks at me questioningly for a moment before he takes the sachets from me.  His long, gloved fingers barely brush mine, but I’m transfixed all the same.

“Thank you,” he says softly, a searching expression in his gaze.  “You’re extraordinarily kind… Perhaps… Perhaps we’ll cross paths again, but should we not, please know that I’m grateful for this gesture.”

After a moment, he breaks our locked gaze and turns to head for the door as he pockets the sachets.  My pulse is still racing, but I somehow don’t want him to go.

“Well then,” he says with a note of finality, “The hour is late, and I am out of time.”

After giving me a long, inexplicable look of… sadness?  The Doctor fixes his mask in place.

“Don’t let him fool you,” he says, and the door slams behind him as he disappears into the early morning fog.

I’m stunned, my breath is shallow, and I try to steady my heartbeat.

I lock the door and put out the lantern with my magic.  My mind is flying in all directions—how will I ever get to sleep?


	2. The Empress:  Day

It was a tumultuous sleep, not very restful.  My dreams were swimming with images of the Doctor’s face, the sound of his voice, the ghost of the touch of his hand on mine as he accepted the herbs I gave him last night.  I wake with a thumping headache before the first light of dawn, and, unable to sleep, begin to get ready for the travel.

I spend the early hours preparing my things by lamplight, casting wild shadows on the wall. I put clothes into a pack, a comb, a night dress and put Asra’s tarot deck and a purse with some money into my hip bag.  I set out my heavy shawl and my shoes with my things, and when I finish, I find myself yawning from the lack of sleep.  Seeking a moment’s rest, I return to my bed to lie down, and I slip away, lost in a dream.

The sky is no more than a slim, green line upon an endless horizon.  Beside me is Asra, on the back of a strange beast. Dark clouds bear down all around the landscape, a shifting sea of rust-coloured sand.  Ahead is a road of perfect black stone.  I’m sure I’ve never walked this road, and yet the sight of it feels like an old nightmare.  I strain to see where it leads, but the path keeps changing.

“Brother, where are we?”  I murmur, overwhelmed.

“I dare not tell you,” Asra replies, looking out in the distance.  “If I did, it could be detrimental to you, Sevrina.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is dangerous here, especially for you,” he says softly, still searching the horizon.  “There is so much here that could cause you pain.  I am searching for a way to assemble the pieces of your past for you.  I need for you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, Asra,” I exhale in frustration.  “I just wish that you would not be so secretive.”

“I’m secretive for your safety, Sevrina,” he says, hardly above a whisper.  “But the cards say that soon, there will be a crossroads for you.”

“A crossroads?” I ask.  “Where do they lead?” 

“Depends on which one you take, Sister,” he says.  “Now rest.”

I watch him as he walks off toward another figure in the far distance—she is obscured by shadow.  I cannot see her face, but she is waiting for him, open-armed.

My sleep is dreamless, then.  When I wake, my headache is gone and early daylight is filtering through the dusty windows.  I dress and tidy the house before I throw on my heavy, hooded shawl and my hip bag, and head outside through the shop downstairs with my pack, dragging the heavy door shut behind me. 

I’m in knots with disquiet and apprehension, and I don’t want to leave home, but the Countess seemed so troubled last night, and I’m determined to help her.

I think of what Asra says when I feel overly anxious. 

_Start with your breath.  Think only about your breath.  Savour your breath.  Lead with your heart and be present._

I take a moment to run over the mantra and steady my nerves.

After last night’s intrusion, I turn the first lock, and then the second and the third.  Almost satisfied, I press a hand to the door and whisper a Cross Me Not spell. 

 

_Cross not this door without a key._

_Cross not without enquiry._

_Cross not this door without invite._

_Cross not this shield of sealing light._

 

The wood lights up beneath my palm in the pattern of Asra’s intricate designs.  White whorls glow deep within the door, then fade into the grain.

The shop will be well.  All will be well.

I pull my shawl tighter, and step out into the foggy street.  The morning mist is thick and cold, yet to be scattered by the sun’s persistent morning rays.  It blankets the street in an ethereal, milky glow.  I can still see the puffs of my breath as I exhale.  I take a moment to appreciate the tranquil scene, when all at once the hair at the nape of my neck rises in alarm.

Someone is near.  Someone is…right beside me.  I turn towards the eerie sensation, and notice a dark shape looming in the alley.

At first, I don’t realize that I’m looking at a human being, he is so monstrous in size.  He is both very tall and very broad, and stands between me and the path I have to take.  It’s impossible not to notice that his muscular body is scored with scars, clean and jagged, shallow and deep.  Shrouded in a pall of weather-beaten furs, it’s hard to make out a face, but he is definitely watching me through his dark, cropped hair.  I take a step forward, watching the figure cautiously.  His stormy green eyes follow my movements as I enter the alley.  My steps are careful, but the stranger makes no move.  My heart beats hard as I pass him, trying hard not to feel his eyes on me, and once I have stepped beyond him carefully, a voice like distant thunder rumbles from beneath the robes.

“You are in grave danger,” he says.

I inhale sharply.  The earthy scent of myrrh washes over me, and I hold still.  My feet suddenly feel too heavy to lift.  I tighten my shawl around me protectively and turn my head toward the towering figure behind me.  He does not turn to look at me.

“He will return uninvited,” the man explains.  “He will offer you a gift, when you need it most.  Turn it away, or you will fall into his hand, just like the rest of us.”

I blink, trying to process what I just heard.  Then, he shuffles away, dragging along his furs and rough cloth.  I hear the rattle of a chain, and then silence as he slips into the mist.

I have to go.  Now.

Exhaling deeply, I continue toward the narrow, mossy steps that will lead me to the marketplace.  My heart is pounding in alarm, and a moment later, I suddenly can’t remember why.

Wood groans beneath my feet as I step carefully onto the walkway.  Daylight seeps through the gaps between the worn planks, shimmering on the water that flows freely below. It’s early yet, but the marketplace is already wide awake.

All around me are sounds of bartering, laughter, vendors hawking their wares.  Through the cacophony, I hear a voice I know well calling out to me in a half-laugh.  It’s the baker.

“Sevrina!” he shouts with a wave, “Have you eaten?  I’ve got that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven—it won’t be long now.  Come sit down, talk for a while!”

I sniff the air on impulse and my stomach twists in hunger.  People come from all over Vesuvia to this market just for his bread.  I could stop for a short spell, and still be to the palace in plenty of time…

The baker’s sun-speckled face lights up with a broad smile as I turn toward his stall.  He leads me into the booth, and a warm, spicy scent surrounds me.  As I settle against the back wall, he offers me a steaming tin cup and places his hands on his hips.

“Thank you, Selasi,” I say with a smile, “How’s your wife fairing?  Is she finding it easier to nurse?  And how is your son?”

He’s beaming.  “Oh Adhara’s doing very well, now.  Since your help two days ago, Little Omer is hardly away from her breast!  Greedy little boy, he is!  Ha!  I can’t thank you enough for your help—we’d tried so long to have him and were both frightened to death when her milk wouldn’t come in—all of the fear of being a new parent, I suppose.   But everyone is happy and healthy now, thanks to you and Asra… In fact, where is Asra?  He’s usually with you, here.  I almost never see you alone.”

I sip my drink.  A hot, minty brew, and shrug my shoulders.

“He’s on a journey,” I reply.

“Ah, and where’s he off to this time?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.  “He doesn’t tell me where he goes.”

The baker gives me an odd look.

“He didn’t tell you? How suspicious!  That rascal is keeping secrets from his prized pupil?  I’m starting to wonder if he has a lover hidden away somewhere!”

I laugh softly along with him.  His words are in jest, but they prod at something within me that compels me to answer.

“It’s always like that,” I say.  “He says I’m not ready.  He tells me I must be patient.  It’s frustrating, but I’ve learned to live with it.”

“You two are so complicated,” the baker sighs with a shake of his head, chuckling.  He folds his arms over his ample chest.  “So he’s off on some secret journey.  And where are _you_ off to today, if I may ask?”

I consider holding my tongue, but by the eager gleam in his eye, word has already spread. 

“I’m going to the palace, to see the Countess.”

“So it’s true!” he laughs, “There have been whispers all morning, you know!  They say the Countess’ escort rode into the neighbourhood around midnight.  Word is she wandered around like a lost lamb until she found your door.”

Burning with curiosity, he waits with rapt attention for me to explain, but I keep my silence, downing my drink.  In a town like this, gossip spreads too quickly.

“How’s the bread coming along?”  I say with a wink.  Shaking his head and laughing, he goes to the wood burning stove to check.  A moment later he presents me with a fragrant parcel.

“Here you are,” he says with a bright smile, “Wrapped up for the road.”

I reach for my coin purse, but he shakes his head.  “Next time,” he says with a smile.  “Bring Asra.  The snake too.”

It’s not like I can’t pay, but I nod, cheeks burning as I hand over my empty cup. 

“Thank you,” I murmur softly.  “You’re too kind.”

“Nonsense, now, get out of here!”  He chuckles.  “Don’t keep the Countess waiting.  Safe journey, Sevrina!”

I give a backwards wave and head back out into the flow of traffic.

After a few minutes of weaving through the crowd, I notice a raven flying overhead.  He circles silently and then dives shallowly, enough to draw my eye to a figure in the crowd.

My heart leaps.  Doctor Devorak.  He is walking around with his face uncovered—a very bold move.  He doesn’t seem to care at all about keeping a low profile.  Doesn’t he know how he is whispered about in this city?  Or that a very lifelike rendering of his face is on criminal posters all over town?  The people haven’t forgotten what he’s done… Have they?

The raven cries out as it continues to circle.  The Doctor raises his eye, and when he sees me, his gaze locks with mine.  He smiles at me with a mixture of unguarded warmth and impish mischief.  My heart is racing at the sight of him.  I try to swim through the crowd to get to him, but to no avail.  After a moment, there’s no sign of him or the raven.  I stop a moment, hand over my heart, and catch my breath.  My eyes continue to scan the street, but he has vanished without a trace.  With a pit of disappointment in my stomach, I sigh, and try to shake it off.  Besides, I really must keep moving if I’m going to be on time.

                Up ahead is a narrow stairwell, where the masses and their animals are tightly packed in marketplace traffic.  As I climb the well-worn steps, something catches my eye.  A fortune teller’s booth, tucked away in a shady corner.  Silver moons adorn the indigo tapestries draped over the entrance, a shroud of secrecy and gold fringe.      The sight teases a smile out of me—how nostalgic…  Asra’s told me that used to operate out of a place just like this—I wonder what that must have been like.  As I’m lost in my musings, a patron emerges from the booth, caught up in conversation.  She is pretty, curvy and small, with freckles and wild red curls tied up in a hair wrap.  I give a wide berth and keep my head down.

“Before I forget,” she says, “What are my lucky numbers for today?  Three, six, seven, nine.  Got it.”

She steps away from the tent muttering _three, six, seven, nine_ over and over under her breath, and I don’t notice her backing into me until we crash into each other.

She swears in surprise, and the impact makes me stumble, teetering on the edge of a step.  I manage to catch myself, but the collision has upset the balanced basket on the stranger’s hip, which sends a dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs.

“Oh, perfect,” she grumbles to herself, “As if I wasn’t already late…”

I drop into a crouch beside the stranger to help.  These are luxurious fruits… it’s unusual to buy them in bulk.  I spot one as it’s about to be stomped under a stray hoof, and swipe it at the last second.  When I hand it back to the stranger, her eyes sparkle with delight.

“Oh thank you,” she exhales gratefully, “How sweet of you to help, and after I bumped into you in the first place.”

Together, we hunt the rest of them down, manoeuvring through the steadily increasing foot traffic.  For a moment I forget to keep an eye open for the Doctor, and just search for the bright fruits on the cool stone paving.  Though we’re nearly trampled trying, we manage to recover them.

She takes a moment to count them in the basket and looks up, smiling at me.

“We managed to get every last one of them,” she says with feeling, “I can’t thank you enough…. I probably shouldn’t do this, but… Here.  Take this.”

She offers me a fruit from her basket.  When I accept it, the stranger gives me a smile that warms my chest. 

"Oh, thank you,” I say with a smile.  I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a pomegranate.

“No, thank _you_ ,” she giggles. “Take care, alright?”

With a cheeky wink, she departs, slipping into the crowd.

“That was Portia, you know,” a rattling cough draws my attention.

The fortune teller has moved to stand at the entrance of the booth and is eyeing me with avid interest as they smoke from a long pipe.

“She’s the Countess’ favourite.  Favourite servant, that is.  As for you, you look like a wanderer, yes?  Wouldn’t you like to hear what fortune the fates have spun for you?”

“No thanks,” I say politely, “I’m short for time.  But thank you.”

“As you wish, but know this,” The fortune teller calls with a smile, “Your fate will come to you either way.”

I spot two gold teeth in their playful grin.

“And with it, burning passions.”

 

As the sun journeys across the sky. I climb stair after stair after stair after seemingly infinite stair.  The higher I ascend, the fewer travellers I see along the way. I keep hopefully scanning the crowd for the Doctor, but I don’t see him again, and at this point, I decide it’s best to resign myself to that fact.  By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I can barely walk. I pause for a short rest, and sit on a low wall to catch my breath.

The winter days are short, and it’s already near dark. I only hope I won’t be late for the Countess.  I wipe the pouring sweat from my brow and look ahead.  Down the path is a towering gate of twisted iron on the near end of a long bridge.  Beyond that, I can see the palace closer than ever before.  The sight of it makes it hard to catch my breath.  It’s much more enchanting up close than it is from the city below.

I sit for a fair few minutes, rubbing the tops of my thighs, which are burning from exertion after climbing all those stairs.  I can’t seem to fully shake the feeling of trepidation as I look up at the palace, but my curiosity is beginning to percolate through.  I’ve never been this close to the palace, true, but I’ve never been this close to any truly fine building.  Even the monasteries in the Temple District are of simple construction.  Looking up at the palace draws to mind images of fine royal parties, exquisite dances and beautiful music.  I get to my feet, laughing softly at the thought, and continue on my way to the near end of the bridge, where I’m stopped at the iron gate.

“Who goes there?” calls a guard.  I start at the call—I hadn’t noticed the guards, they were so still.

“My name is Sevrina,” I answer.  “I’ve come at the request of the Countess.”

The other guard responds.  “Sevrina?”

They share a look.  “We have no knowledge of you.  Unless you know the code, you must leave at once.”

“Code?”  I exhale in frustration.  Nobody has said anything of a code.  I feel my stomach knot up.

One of the guards folds his hands over the hilt of a planted sword. 

“A series of numbers,” he replies coldly. “If you don’t know them, leave.  We are not above violence.  Or torture. Anything for the Countess.”

I sigh, and swallow hard, looking at their heavy swords.  “I… I know the code.”

At least I think I do.  Asra often tells me that when something catches your attention, there’s a reason—if it feels like it has a special significance, it does.  If he’s right, then the numbers are probably…

“Three, six, seven, nine.”

The guards exchange a look and then step back. The massive doors swing slowly open for me.

“Proceed.”

“Thank you,” I nod, keeping my composure even as a thrill goes down my spine.  Without hesitation, I walk past them and onto the bridge.  The palace is right before me.  I hear the gate slam shut again behind me.  Now there is no turning back.  I feel my knees begin to shake. 

As the sun drops down below the horizon, the palace is illuminated with gold light.  The geometry of the structure is perfect.  Its towers seem to stretch to the stars.  It is a breath-taking sight.  Fine scrollwork is carved into the stone façade, delicate details enhancing the building’s opulence.  Although excitement is still swirling in my stomach, I can’t shake the feeling that I do not belong here….

I see a door open ahead and Portia, the Countess’ servant, rushes out excitedly to escort me inside.  When she sees me, she smiles broadly.

“If I’d known _you_ were Sevrina, I would have insisted you’d taken the carriage back with me!” She shouts happily as she approaches, her red curls bouncing to her step.  “You have a beautiful name!  It really hit my heart to hear it—My brother loved a girl named Sevrina once, but she’s sadly no longer with us… Oh, but what am I doing, talking about sad things when you’re here, now, and all is excitement!  Welcome to the palace!  I’m Portia!” 

I can’t help but smile.

“It’s lovely to officially meet you,” I say softly.  She smiles and takes me by the elbow, escorting me down the bridge cheerfully.  Her friendliness puts me a little at ease.

I am glad to not be alone approaching this looming palace.  My gaze trails down the alabaster bridge, and a splash draws my eyes to the swirling waters below.

There’s something down there.  Corkscrewing through the muck, it glows like some kind of bloodless ghost.  Its body is long and rippling, ribbon-like.  I don’t realize that I’ve slowed my step until Portia stops entirely and peers over the side of the bridge.

“Something catch your eye?”  She asks, the both of us leaning over the bridge, now.  I point down to the white, rippling shape, and her eyes light up when she spots the creature in the water below.

“Ah, do you like animals?”  Portia asks giddily.

“I love animals,” I reply with a smile.  Her joy is infectious.

“Oh do you?  How nice!  You’ll definitely enjoy your stay here.  The palace is home to all kinds of exotic pets.  But you don’t want to get too friendly with that one—it’s a vampire eel.  Imported from faraway swamps.  No eyes or ears, but they’re still pretty graceful, don’t you think?  Unless you splash around a lot, they won’t even bother you, but you wouldn’t want to catch a bite—if they bite, they don’t stop drinking until the body is dry.”

I nod.  Peering down at the creature as it spirals into the billowing silt.

Portia pats my shoulder, ushering me along.  She occupies me with the conversation all the way down the bridge.

As we approach the intricate doors, I find my nerves returning tenfold.  Uncertainties start to rise like bubbles coming to a boil within me.  Is this wise?  What awaits me in his fortress so far from home?  I wish Asra were here… If I walk through the doors, will I ever walk out again?  Too soon we are standing before them, and Portia turns to me with a winsome smile.

“We have arrived,” she singsongs, and then swings her fist against the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes.  As the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward, and I am swept inside, wondering if I will ever return.


	3. The Empress:  Night

Inside is a different world.  Everything is gleaming.  The floors, the walls, and the steep ceilings are all clean-cut, polished stone.  Decorative sconces on the walls hold glowing lamps that cast everything in a welcoming, warm light. Doorways are embellished with elegant, scrolling frames, and beautiful, intricate mosaics pattern the floors in dancing swirls.  Lining the hall on either side are many servants, standing at attention in brilliant uniform.

"Welcome.  Welcome.  Welcome…”

Two servants approach and take my pack and shawl.  The _welcomes_ follow me as I move down the hallway, my eyes flick left and right uneasily as I am greeted from all angles. 

When we reach the end of the line, one servant slips away from the rest to join us.    He is barely four feet tall, and there is a sumptuous blue feather standing proudly in his velvet cap, swaying to and fro with his step.  With a deep bow, he passes me and dashes to Portia’s side.

“How are we doing on time?”  Portia asks.

“Impeccable timing!” asserts the chamberlain as he twirls his moustache absently.  “The first course will be served shortly.  Her ladyship has yet to descend.”

Portia heaves a sigh of delight and smiles at me brightly.

“Perfect,” she says excitedly, “Run and tell the kitchen that our guest has arrived.”

“Yes, yes, right away!”  And the chamberlain scuttles away with a curtsy, disappearing behind a panel in the wall which slides seamlessly shut.  There doesn’t appear to be a door there at all.

“Well, well, well!  It looks like we’ll be arriving right on time,” Portia says happily.  “Her ladyship will be joining us soon.  I’ll show you to the dining room.”

“Dining?” I ask nervously, “As in… me dining with the Countess?”

Portia laughs at the face I must be pulling.

“What?  Don’t tell me you thought we wouldn’t feed you!”  She giggles, patting me on the shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t be shy—you’re a guest of honour.”

Her words leave my stomach fluttering with everything but hunger.  I follow her purposeful stride, our footsteps echoing down the cavernous hall.   My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that I press my hand to my breast in a futile effort to quiet it.  Soon, we are standing before a fine mahogany door.  I heave a shaking, heavy exhale, and Portia turns to me with a reassuring smile.

“We’ll go in together, alright?”  She says, patting my shoulder.  “Don’t be so nervous.  We are all so happy to have you here.”

I feel myself just barely nod, and she opens the door, leading me inside.  I step into the dining room, rich scents fill my lungs, unfamiliar and tantalizing.  A quintet dressed in gauzy evening gowns are playing a pleasant, ambling melody.  Before me is a long table laid heavy with platters of fragrant delicacies I’ve never tasted.  Portia pulls out a chair for me, and I sink into a plush seat, eyeing the spread on the table.  The aromas of the foods laid there make me salivate, swallowing hard, trying not to appear too eager.  Now that food is in front of me, my hunger returns tenfold, but the Countess is yet to arrive, and I dare not touch a thing. 

To stave off my hunger, I tear my gaze away from the table and notice a strange painting on the wall across from me.  The scene is that of a meal shared among a host of figures with the heads of beasts.  The table is laden with small animals, provided by a central character with the head of a white goat.  Rays of gold glitter around its head like a halo, and its red eyes are vivid and strikingly lifelike.  They seem to permeate a studying glance through me, which prickles my unease.

“I see you are admiring the painting.”

My head whips toward the head of the table to source of the sonorous voice.  The Countess is taking her seat, as graceful as I remember from this morning, dressed in exquisite turquoise silks that sit out against her sienna skin strikingly.  Her every movement seems musical, like a dancer’s.  At the sight of me, her lips curve into a placid smile.  I get the feeling she’s been watching me for a few moments before making her presence known.

“Do you like it, Sevrina?” She asks curiously.  “The painting?”

It makes me feel uneasy.  I don’t particularly like it, but I am a guest in the palace, and don’t want to upset the hostess by insulting her decor.

“Yes,” I say softly, hoping she can’t see through me.  “Very much.”

She drums her elegant fingers along her cheekbone, watching me with idle interest.

“You have peculiar taste,” she smiles. “I cannot say I care much for it.  Something about it has always struck me as… shall I say, _uncomfortable_.  So why does it remain on the wall, where I must look at it always, you might ask?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Countess.”

A servant appears at my side to place a bowl of yogurt and cucumber soup before me. 

“Thank you,” I say softly.  The servant does not reply.  I bring it to my mouth immediately and drink greedily to satiate the twisting in my stomach.

“As I was saying,” The Countess explains.  “I suppose I keep it because it was one of my husband’s favourites.  He was quite a collector of art, you know.”

Count Lucio.  I’m surprised at the mention of him.  As his name takes form in my mind, the image of the goat figure before me becomes somehow familiar.  Suddenly, his red eyes are so vivid that I can almost feel them burning into me.

“Beautiful red,” I blurt out stupidly. 

The Countess nods her head.  “Ah, yes.  It is a beautiful red.  But more to the point—you have a spoon, I recommend using it.”

Horrified at my common ignorance and incivility, I set the bowl down onto the table and sheepishly take hold of the spoon.  Amusement shimmers in her brilliant mahogany eyes.

“As I was saying,” she continues, “The goat-headed one in the middle is him, or it is supposed to be.  Providing for the people, as I suppose he saw himself.  He certainly knew how to entertain, there’s no doubt...  Festivities at the palace were exhaustive—he loved to spoil his guests.”

My empty bowl is whisked away, and in its place is a dish of flaky golden savouries.  I thank the servant again, only again to receive no reply.  The Countess watches me devour the pastries with morbid curiosity.

“Tell me, Sevrina,” she asks in a pleasant, low tone, “Did you ever attend the Masquerade?”

I blink, mouth full, and shake my head no.  If I ever had attended, the memory is lost to me now.

“Really?” she says with a note of surprise, “That’s a surprise.  I thought you may well have—Our doors were open to all… well, up to a certain capacity.”

I chew my pastry slower, unsure how to answer.  I know that the Masquerade was a festival held each year in celebration of the Count’s birthday.  For the Countess to bring him up again is unexpected, but I realize how that it probably has something to do with the reason she called me here, and I am starting to feel as if there was very good reason for the trepidation I felt entering the palace…

“I know it’s a difficult matter to discuss,” she says softly, spreading her hands for emphasis, “I know how fondly the people of this city remember the Masquerade… and of course, how deeply affected we all were by the murder.”

I nearly choke.  Mercifully, I catch myself.  My heart is beating hard in my ears.

“It was such a terrible shock to the guests, such a vicious injustice upon this house,” she sighs, “To slaughter the host while he celebrates his birthday, sharing his joy and prosperity, with open doors?  A hateful crime indeed.”

Our entrees arrive in the hands of two elegant servants.

“Ah, thank you,” The Countess says with a smile, leaning back from the table.  She falls silent.  I turn my attention to the plate before me, a fragrant lamb dish in a complicated sauce.

All I know about the murder of Count Lucio is through rumour and whispers.  The story is full of holes, more questions than answers, but the end is the same:  The Count retired to his chambers, and by midnight, he and his chamber were both engulfed in flames.  The culprit was captured on the spot, or surrendered…the details vary.  Before he could be brought to justice, the murderer escaped.  Ever since that day, the palace has been locked from all who would seek to enter.

“You may be wondering why I’m telling you all of this,” The Countess speaks after a spell, “Why I called you here.” 

Her tone is one of gravity.  At once, she has all the room at attention.

“Well, I have been planning this for some time,” she continues, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes behind her careful composure. “This year, we will hold the Masquerade once more.  The gates will again open and the festivities in Lucio’s honour will be more fanatical than ever.  _Fantastical_ , excuse me.  The people of Vesuvia will feel connected to the palace once more.”

She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin.  All around the room, palpable shock bears down in silence.  Only Portia appears unbothered by the news.

“As I’ve said,” The Countess continues, “I’ve planned all the necessary details already.  There is but one loose end in need of tying—the murderer.  To this day, he roams free, but he has been sighted in Vesuvia in recent weeks.  Too long he has evaded me.  So long as he stalks the shadows of this city, I cannot guarantee the safety of my guests.  I must find him, and bring him to justice before the people of this city.  It is what they want, and it is what they shall have.”

She pauses and looks at me curiously.  I still don’t know what part I am meant to play in all of this, but I feel very uneasy.

“Surely you know the murderer of whom I speak,” The Countess says stonily. “Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband’s trusted physician.”

Suddenly, there’s a terrible crash that shatters the tension.   All eyes fall on Portia, whose face is stricken with horror.  At her feet, the broken remnants of our dessert are seeping onto the floor.

“Portia?”  The Countess asks.

“Oh no... Oh, forgive me, Milady,” Portia stammers.  “Slippery hands… I’ll remedy this.  Forgive me for delaying your dessert—I’ll have another prepared right away…”

The Countess shakes her head slightly.  “Don’t worry, my dear.  There are plenty of candied almonds and date cakes on the table—I’m sure if Sevrina wants something sweet, those will suffice?”

She casts me a glance, and I look at Portia and nod.

“That’s perfectly fine,” I assure her, but Portia’s chin is quivering.  The Countess stands and steps to Portia, patting her on the arm and smiling warmly.

“Don’t be upset, dear, it’s nothing that can’t be cleaned up.  I’m not angry.”

Portia nods and settles herself with a deep breath before looking sheepishly at me.

“So sorry, Sevrina,” she says as she pulls out the Countess’ chair for her.

“Don’t be,” I reply with a reassuring smile.  “I’ve been too well spoiled already, honestly.”

Two servants rush to her aid, sweeping away the shattered porcelain with wind-sprint speed.  Portia bows her head sheepishly, and after casting a last concerned glace at Portia, the Countess turns her attention back to me.

“At any rate, this is where you come in, Sevrina,” she continues.  “Despite the sightings, the fugitive has proved very elusive.  The palace guard has been useless in rooting him out, but while they continue to disappoint me, you come highly recommended. Your master is known far and wide, and praise of your own talents is just as easy to come by.  I myself see the future in dreams, whether I like it or not, and this is how I know that you are the one who will find him for me… That fraudulent doctor who betrayed us and murdered my husband must not roam free any longer.  That is why I’ve called you here, Sevrina. If anyone can help me find him, it’s you.”

“Countess, forgive me,” I say, trying to untangle my thoughts, “I’m confused…. You brought me here to conduct a murder investigation?”

“Yes,” she says simply.

“I’ve never been asked to do anything like this before,” I clarify, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.  How are you so certain I’m the one that will find the Doctor?”

She smiles drolly.  “My dreams have told me so.”

“And… if we find him?”  I ask, not sure what to say.

The Countess sets down her glass.

“ _When_ we find him,” she corrects me, “We will bring him before the people so that all can see his long awaited punishment.  Whether he begs for his life or hangs his head in defeat, the people will delight in is suffering.  A spectacle of vengeance. Vesuvia will love it.  When he’s caught, the Doctor will die on the gallows.”

I don’t like this.

The Countess rises from her seat.  On instinct, I rise as well.

“Portia,” the Countess calls.  “Portia?”

“Yes, Milday?”  Portia snaps out of a thought and rushes to the Countess.

“Please show Sevrina to the guest quarters,” the Countess says smoothly.  “I imagine there is much to ponder before the night is out.”

Portia curtseys, “Right away, Milady.” 

She puts an arm around my back and ushers me to the doorway.

“I’m interested to see more of this magic of yours, Sevrina,” the Countess calls, causing us to pause. “And I look forward to our partnership.”

Automatically, I bow my head.  The Countess looks pleased.

Portia hurries me out the door.  She is quiet as she ushers me down the hall toward my room.  I don’t mind—the Countess’ words have left me much to think about.

 After a few turns, we pass a wide staircase, veiled in shadow.  A draft rushes down from the floor above, prickling my skin.  It’s cold, and it smells of ash.  It makes me feel uneasy.  I strain to see where the stairs lead, but the darkness at the top is impenetrable.

More importantly, curled up at the bottom step are two large, lanky, white dogs.  They notice me just as I notice them.  Their fathomless eyes fix upon me, and they rise slowly, ghostlike, without a sound, and watch me.  I hold out my hand, and they approach to sniff it.  Their huffing breaths tickle my skin.  The more they smell, the more their tails start to swing from side to side. I smile and laugh softly, crouching down in front of them.

There is a gasp up ahead, and I look to see Portia watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“Oh my,” she whispers. “What’s this, Mercedes?  Melchior?  You actually got up from your favourite stair?”  She rounds back, observing the dogs in wonder. 

“This is bizarre,” she clarifies, “These two never take kindly to strangers—it’s just how they were trained.  I’ve never seen them act like this around someone they don’t know… You must really be good with animals…”

Slim snouts brush up against my sides as the dogs investigate me further.  Satisfied, they draw back, looking at me expectantly.  I stand up again, and reach out to run my hand over the smaller one’s silky coat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Portia warns.  The dog rears back, from my hand or Portia’s panicked tone, I can’t be sure.

“Sorry,” Portia mumbles.  “I know they’re gorgeous and all, but they’re also unpredictable. I’d rather you keep that in mind, I don’t want to see you get bitten.  Now go on, you two!  Protect your stairs!”

The hounds trot dutifully back to their spot at the base of the stairs, but remain standing, never taking their eyes off me.

“Oh that reminds me,” Portia says to herself, “They haven’t had their chamomile cakes.  They’re going to be up all night!  Keep Sevrina company, you two.  No growling, no snapping, no biting!”  She turns to me.  “They’ve gotten a lot better, it’s just tough to train them out of their old ways.  Count Lucio liked to keep them vicious.  Be right back!”

Portia swoops through a sliding panel in the wall.  I’m left alone in the hallway with the dogs, who have approached me again.  I feel the bigger one sniff my side insistently.  When I look down, it simply pulls back and stares.  Then the other one is sniffing my other side, huffing my scent.  I whirl to catch it and it sits back on its haunches, watching me innocently.  Cheeky thing.  As I look into its one sanguine eye, an unsettling sensation ripples through my body like a wave of fever.

_Ooh, hello, hello, hello.  What do we have here? A guest?_

I startle back, gaze darting up and down the corridor.  Who said that?  It sounded like it was coming from the top of the stairs….  I can only see so far into the hollow gloom, but I see no one.  Even so, I can’t tear my eyes away from the shadows.  Suddenly, I’m startled when I feel yanking at my garments.

The dogs have taken my clothes into their teeth unrelentingly and are dragging me up the stairs.  I trip up the first few steps and their tails start wagging.  I hear the voice again, a hiss of delight.

_Yes, my beauties, bring that morsel to Papa._

“Stop it!  Let go!”

I wrench myself free.  Groaning in frustration, the dogs scamper to the top of the stairs, and wait.  Carefully, I take the next step, toward the oppressive gloom.  My head feels cloudy, like I’m not in total control of my own movements.  Although I’m frightened, my feet keep moving forward, up the stairs, toward the source of the ensnaring whispers.

_Good, just a little closer…. Best behaviour, you two… Let’s show off our famous hospitality…_

Snickering bounces off the walls, and I feel a sweltering heat at my back, urging me higher.  I take the rest of the steps at the goading of the heat behind me.   The dogs pant and circle each other in excitement as I approach the landing.

_Yes, it’s been too long since we’ve had company, hasn’t it? Good dogs.  You’re dismissed, yes you are…_

I’m vaguely aware of their silky bodies brushing my sides as they slink away.  A few more steps and I reach a miasma of thick, scorching air that pricks my skin all over and knocks my breath away momentarily.  I feel sluggish and a little ill.

_Now then, let’s take a proper look at you, my little appetizer._

The mocking words lap at my ear.  I can feel puffs of hot breath skimming my cheek, a menacing presence at my side.  It falls back, cool air filling the void, soothing my nerves before I get the distinct feeling that I’m being circled.

_Tsk tsk… what ugly, cheap clothes, did you make them yourself?  Good Gods,  your shoes are even worse.  Don’t you own any others?_

A phantom gaze roams my body from head to toe as I twist and squirm, trying to catch the presence by sight.  It’s futile. 

 _Just yet another peasant worm, tracking peasant filth up and down my halls, and yet the dogs did say you smell delicious... I suppose you’re not_ too _unfortunate-looking.… Ooh, but what’s_ this _?_

There is a tingling sensation at the crown of my head, sucking the air, drawing my aura up.  A guttural groan melts away into a malignant, low laughter.

 _There, in your energy… oh, yes, it’s unmistakable.  You bear his signature.  Asra… This powerful, potent magic….And that’s not all…_ Him _… Oh, he’s all over you…. Could it be…_

I feel the feverish heat swoop over my shoulders, rising up before me.  It blasts across my face, impossibly close.

_Was it you? The one that broke him to pieces? Oh, I’d just love to get to know you…_

The searing heat scatters.  For a moment, I’m swaying on my feet, eyes lidded.  I feel strange, as if I’m ill or under the influence of a powerful drug.  A rash of warmth lands on my shoulder, whisper-light, and starts to lead me down the arid hall.  The longer the pressure bears down on me, the hotter it grows.  Even as it begins to burn, I keep walking, unable to fight the pull.

“Sevrina?” I hear Portia’s voice calling.  It rings through my hazy mind like crystal.  Sharp, unseen fingers sink into my shoulder before they release.  A steamy sigh flutters over my neck, raising gooseflesh all the way down my back.

_Sevrina—That’s you, right?_

One phantom claw drags up the underside of my chin, lifting my lolling head.  For a split second, I think I see a face, a figure standing right in front of me.

A goat.  But standing upright, like a man.  Twisting horns, glowing red eyes, missing his left arm.  I gasp.

“I’ll be keeping my eye on you, Sevrina,” he says.  My name rings out all around again, Portia’s singsong voice and a mocking echo that travels down the empty hall.

When I stumble down the stairs, feeling disoriented, Portia is looking around corners for me.  She sees me when I am back at the bottom of the staircase.

“There you are,” she says with relief.  “Where did the dogs go?  Up the stairs?”

Up the stairs.  I nod, feeling the last of the haze lift from my mind.

“You know,” she says with an air of friendly concern, “I’m just going to leave these cakes here.  Let’s get you to bed. You’ve had a long day, and you look exhausted.  Right this way…”

Portia takes me gently by the elbow and escorts me to our destination.  Thankfully, it isn’t much further.  She swings open the door with a sweeping gesture, and welcomes me into a luxurious guest room.

“And here we are!” she says happily, “These will be your quarters for now, Sevrina.  You can put your things wherever you like—please make yourself at home.  Breakfast is at sunrise—I’ll be sure to wake you.”

My fatigue must be showing.  I untie my hip bag and let it fall to the floor.

“If you find anything lacking, don’t hesitate to ask,” she adds as she turns down my bed with remarkable speed.  Eyeing the smooth linens, I shudder with exhaustion.

“Alright,” she laughs, “You look ready to drop.  I’ll leave you be, unless you have any questions?”

Leaning against the doorway, she bats her eyes expectantly.

“You dropped something during dinner,” I ask in a hushed tone.  “Why?”

Portia’s expression sours, colour draining from her freckled cheeks.  Her brows knit painfully and for a moment, she’s quiet.

“Slippery hands, for one thing,” she mutters lightly.  I stare, unblinking.  Portia spreads her hands.  “It’s just... we were all so glad to hear the Countess was expecting a guest, the doors here have been closed off for so long…  But to think she asked you to come here for something like this, finding the Doctor who, for all anybody knows, could be dead in a ditch somewhere… I mean, it’s been three years since the Count was killed, he could be anywhere, right?  And it’s not like the guards have had any recent leads—it’s only rumours that he’s even in Vesuvia, after all.  I just don’t understand why she wants to track him down all of a sudden, and to see him hanged...  That’s just not the Countess I know.  I find it a little concerning…. But I have a feeling about you, Sevrina—I think if anyone can help her, it’s you.”

I nod my head in understanding, remembering how troubled the Countess was when she appeared at my door.

“I’ll certainly do my best to get to the bottom of this,” I say softly.  “The Countess came to my door looking for help, and that’s what I’m here for.”

Portia bows her head and half smiles.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” she says.  “Don’t hesitate to let us know if you need anything at all—that’s what we’re here for, and it’s not any trouble.”

I smile.  “Thank you, Portia.”

Her silhouette lingers in the doorway a moment longer.

“Sleep well, Sevrina,” she murmurs.  Her soft voice trails off and I hear the door slide shut.  Once it’s closed, I look around the room.  A standing wooden changing screen, a two-door armoire, a pair of chairs and a small table under the window, and a large, very inviting bed.

I go to my pack and take out the spare clothes I’ve brought and hang them in the beautiful armoire I’ve been provided with—it’s a stark contrast, my simple clothing in such a beautiful piece of furniture.  Tossing my night dress over to the mattress, I undress and lay today’s clothes in a tidy pile on the chair by the window.

My eye goes to the bed.  It looks indecently inviting.  I stand alongside it and pull my night dress over my head, and smooth it down my legs.  I pull back the embroidered duvet and slip under the covers with a groan of relief.  I burrow into the luxurious sheets and cocoon myself up against pillows.  It feels as though I’m weightless.  I close my eyes and relax, so ready to be asleep.

 

I can’t…

I can’t sleep.  This is torture.  After the day-long climb to the palace, I finally have the chance to rest, but whenever I settle into the embrace of sleep, I am tugged back to consciousness.  After writhing around for a while, I sit up, frustrated.  When I do, I can sense the faintest whiff of magic in the air.  It’s coming from the door.  Quietly, I slide out of bed and dress in the clothes I travelled here in.  I slip my shoes on and retrieve my hip bag from the floor—I may need my things. 

Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle of the door, and emerge into the brightly lit hallway.  There isn’t a soul in sight.  Good.  I must have wasted a few hours tossing and turning…  I shuffle down the hall, trusting my senses to lead me.  I make a few turns, each time I have no doubt which way to go, until I reach a fork, and the trail pulls me to the left.

The hall leads me onto a balmy veranda, bathed in starlight.  The night is clear and chilly.  I can see the vapour of my breath.  Below, I see the gardens, shady and lush.  From up high, I can see that the middle forms a maze of greenery.  At its centre is a clearing.  I know at once where to go. 

Silently, I descend to the garden path, shrouded in a cold breeze.  I tighten my shawl and keep walking.  Quieting my thoughts, I listen to the night birds and let my intuition lead me through the maze.  As I near the centre, the musical sound of falling water grows louder and louder.  I reach a fountain.  Around it is a wide gazing pool. 

Pale pink peonies flourish in beautifully maintained bushes around the perimeter of the clearing.  The sight of them momentarily knocks the breath from me.  I’m drawn to them, and approach a bush to sniff one of the blooms.  My head begins to twinge, and I suddenly feel a flood of unidentifiable emotions that spring tears to my eyes… I must be tired, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the flowers just yet.

I kneel on the ground in front of several blooms, my breath shaking from my sudden emotion, and I inhale their soft perfume in wonder.  I’ve seen pink peonies many times, but never reacted this way to them, with a hollow, haunted feeling in my chest.  The petals are soft against my cheeks as I take in their fragrance, willing myself to know the answer to the question of my unexplainable reaction to them.  I close my eyes and smell again, and as I will the answer to surface in me, I imagine that perhaps a pair of lips once brushed my own before a stabbing pain behind my eyes urges me to pull away from the bloom in my fingers. 

With a final, sad caress the blossom, I wipe away the tear that has freshly broken down my cheek, and turn my attention back to the fountain, and I approach the gazing pool.  Overhead is a colossal old willow tree.  Hanging from the tree on one of the low-hanging branches is a familiar lavender-coloured serpent.  I can hardly believe my eyes.

“Faust!” I whisper with delight.  What on earth is she doing here?  If she’s here, could Asra be here, too?

She flicks her tongue, hovering over the gazing pool.  The gleam in her eye says she wants to show me something.  I reach my arm up and she slithers down into my grasp eagerly and then settles across my shoulders.  I take a seat on the edge of the pool and lean over to peer into the reflective water below.  The longer I concentrate on the shapes in the water, the more they change.  Colours too faint to see start to deepen, shadows start to twist and form.  Before I know it, my reflection is fading away, an in its place I see Asra, drawing water to his mouth and drinking deeply from his cupped hands before splashing his face.  Each drop that trickles through his fingers sends ripples through his image as it strikes the surface.  I’m so shocked to see him that I can only gape silently, afraid that any sound will break the spell.  Then, he shakes out his hair, blinks the water from his eyes, and stares straight at me.

“Sevrina?”  He looks as surprised as I am.  He leans forward, close enough that I can see droplets in his eyelashes. “Can you hear me?”

I nod, barely able to believe it myself.  If this is no spell of his, then how did I…?

“Incredible,” he laughs.  I see now that he is sitting cross-legged, probably beside a pond.  His mount, a strange beast, is lying beside him, resting its weighty head on his knee.

“Ah, there’s Faust!” Asra says happily, “It looks like she found you alright.  I wasn’t sure about leaving her, but after the reading you gave me… I thought I’d trust my intuition.”

I smile.  It’s good to see a friendly face after such a long and intimidating day.  He casts a glance to the side with a smile, as if there’s someone else there, but doesn’t confirm this.

“I’m glad she’s here,” I say softly, still cautious of discovery.  I glance over to her as she peers into the water.  She looks very proud of herself. Now that I’m over the shock of seeing her, I’m beyond relieved to have her here. 

In the reflection, Asra looks pretty pleased, too.  It makes me laugh.

“I’m glad that you’re here, too,” I say.  He smiles and the beast on his knee gives a rumbling snort.

“Where is _here_ , exactly?”  Asra asks, examining my surroundings, “I know that tree—are you at the palace?”

“Yes… It’s been a wild day.”

I tell him about the Countess’ visit to the shop and how it brought me here, but I omit the part about Doctor Devorak’s break-in, and play dumb about why the Countess wants my help.  The more I speak, the more his eyes glimmer with keen interest.

“Unbelievable,” he whispers.  “The day I left was the day you needed me the most, and even then, you didn’t really need me at all… But I’m glad Faust is with you, at least.  I would guess that she had something to do with this… If anything happens to either of you, I’ll know, and I’ll be able to help.  I can live with that.”

The beast on Asra’s knee groans, blinking awake and peering up into his face.

“Ah, it looks like we’ve rested long enough,” He laughs, patting the beast on its head before it rises.  “We have to go, but I’m really glad I got to see you, Sister.”

He rises, and with one last glance, moves out of my view, the lumbering beast shuffles behind him.  My only warning is the roaring wind before the image is enveloped in a storm of rust-coloured sand.  When it clears, the water is still, and I see myself reflected with Faust by my side.

That place… Where was he just now?  It looked familiar.  That copper sand and the creature beside him… I realize they’re the same as in my dream.  So it was a vision, then… I had all but forgotten it.  The stars must be aligned in some powerful way, but more than that, Asra told me once that anyone can perform a magical act.  Magic is what you do to make the outcome you desire become reality. 

Yawning, I gather Faust into my arms and rise from the fountain.  My eyes fall again on the peonies, and I stop to smell them again before heading inside, pondering the melancholy they inspire.

Getting to my room unnoticed is going to be a challenge.  Steeling myself, I turn back toward the palace.  As I go, I hear the birds’ echoing calls, and I feel the weight of eyes on my back. 

_That snake has gotten much bigger._

I need to sleep.  The rustling leaves sound too much like whispers.  Hastening my step, I retreat up the stairs and slip back inside.


	4. The Emperor:  Day

I’m walking down the black stone path, whipped by rust-coloured sand, clutching a pale, pink peony.  My heart is full of sadness that I cannot source.  The thick, dark clouds hanging overhead are heavier than before.

I’m dreaming again.  Where is Asra?  Could he tell me why the peonies make my heart ache?

The unforgiving wind burns my eyes as I search the desolate landscape for my Brother.  Suddenly I spot him in the distance, ahead of me.  He is too far ahead for me to reach, even if I run.  Another silhouette is with him, barely visible through the sandy wind. Calling out is useless over the howling wind, but still, I must try.

“Asra!” I call, suddenly seized by upset.  “Brother, I need you, please!”

His head turns.  Even from the uncrossable distance, I feel our eyes meet, and then everything around us dissolves and falls away.

It’s yesterday, somehow.  I’m sweeping up a mess of powdered bat milk when Asra wanders in from the back room.

“Sevrina,” he murmurs excitedly.  “Wait until you see what the woods had to offer today.”

Mushrooms, fruit, roots and flowers tumble out of his bag onto the linen laying over the countertop.  He leans on his elbows, hands under his chin, to watch me appraise the bounty with delight.

“Oh my goodness,” I sigh, “So much!  This is more than we need…!”

Asra nods.  “Well, this time I thought it’d be better to have plenty,” he says, “I don’t want to leave you here with nothing to eat but pumpkin bread.”

I slow my appraisal.  With my hands occupied, Asra slips a goldberry into my mouth and I chew slowly, tasting nothing.

Leave me… that’s right.  This is the moment just before he packed his bag to go.  Why can’t he understand how difficult it is for me to be in this shop alone, so sure the secrets of my lost memories, of the cause of these scars down my back, are within reach?  Why can’t he understand how maddening it is to not remember where I come from or how I suffered these injuries?

I wanted to tell him then.  Now, I can’t remember why I didn’t.  I can’t hold it in.

“I don’t want you to go,” I say as assertively as I can.

Asra blinks, drops his gaze and sighs.  His gentle, tan hands take mine as he looks deep into my eyes.

“I know,” he says.  “I’m sorry that it hurts you. I don’t want that.”

“Then take me with you,” I say, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him weakly in my frustration.  Tentatively, he reaches a hand up to pat me on the upper arm.

“I wish I could bring you with me,” he says, his soft words fall so gently I can hear the strain in his voice.  “But your headaches… Sister, I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“My headaches? What do my missing memories have to do with your journeys?”

Asra worries his lip in thought.  He steps back, letting his hands fall in a defeated gesture to his sides.

“Sevrina, please believe me when I say we want the same thing.  I want to take you with me, but it’s too risky right now—someday you’ll understand, I promise I’ll explain it as soon as I can.  Please know I am trying to find a way to help you, and be patient.  You don’t want to be left behind, and I don’t want to leave you, but sometimes what we want and what we need isn’t the same thing.  I’ll bring something pretty back for you, alright?  You used to love to wear things in your hair….”

“I don’t want a souvenir,” I mutter, turning my back to him in frustration.  “I’m not a child that can be placated with the promise of something pretty.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, Sevrina,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder and turning me back to face him.  “I want you to get your answers.  I want that more than you can possibly understand.  I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am trying to give them to you.” 

I turn back to the pile of food, but it is gone.  In its stead, across the linen on the counter, are only peonies.

He pulls back, looking into my eyes with such clarity all else seems to go out of focus.

“It’s easier for you to speak your mind in dreams, isn’t it, Sevrina?”

“Dreams?”

The room pulses, colours shifting.  A dream?  Is that what this is?

And he is already gone.

Sunlight tickles my face.  I open my eyes with a groan.

“Good morning, Sevrina!”

Portia’s voice is cheerful, but I’m startled.  It takes me a moment to remember where I am.

And then I remember.  The room is so fine, I could only be at the palace.

Portia busies herself with the curtains while I get my bearings about me.

“What a lovely sunrise,” she sing-songs, “Did you sleep well?  I hope the dogs didn’t wake you last night—something set them off, they were causing a ruckus, sniffing around the garden, of all places—I was afraid we had an intruder!  Wouldn’t that just be exactly what we need right now!”

She laughs, oblivious to my shifty gaze.

“Well, I didn’t find anyone,” she laughs, “And a good thing, too—all I had on hand was a shovel! That could have gotten ugly.  Anyway, breakfast will be served shortly.  I’ll let you freshen up, and then we’ll head over.  By the way…  Milady has requested that you bring your cards with you.”

I sit up at that, fully awake.

“Oh, and these are for you,” she adds, setting a neat pile of clothing on the bed beside me.  I unfold the tunic and give her a questioning look.

“Why?” I ask. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Portia whispers. “I have explicit orders to make sure you’re not wearing the same thing you were wearing last night.”

I blink, glancing over my old clothes, then to these new ones.

“I… Hmm.”

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Portia says with a smile, and she ducks out the door.  I move the silky garments aside and toss back the bedcovers.  

I undress and pull on my new outfit, fumbling with its delicate clasps and buttons. The fabric flutters around my limbs like a gentle breeze.  The garments are absolutely gorgeous—It feels almost as though I’m wearing nothing at all. 

Do my scars show through this?  Does the neckline expose them at the back?  Perhaps I’ll leave my hair down today….

I suddenly feel embarrassed about my own clothes.  My armoire at home holds beautiful dresses I made before I lost my memories.  Lacework and embroidery are pastimes I enjoy, and have easily relearned them after my memory loss thanks to muscle memory.  I have not been able to bring myself to wear those clothes in the expanse of my current memory.  There is far too much shame attached to my scars for me to bear them at the necklines, and the clothes I’ve worn the last three years have been modest, plain and somewhat shapeless to avoid calling attention of any kind to my body.  It wrenches my heart to realize in this moment that making clothes for myself is a necessity, when once it was a pleasure.  I must have felt beautiful, then.

I comb out my hair and retrieve my bag, peeking inside to make sure Faust isn’t hiding in there.  No sign of her.  I tie the bag around my hips and step out into the hall.

“Oh, don’t you look lovely!” Portia exclaims. “The Countess has a real eye for fashion—she’ll definitely be pleased! Let’s not keep her waiting.  Shall we?”

My chest flutters with apprehension….I think the scars may be visible…  But Portia is so enthusiastic it’s difficult to stifle a grin. I follow her to the dining room.  It is bright, far more welcoming than before.  Servants are bustling to and fro.  The Countess is already seated when I enter, and she appears to be nursing a headache.  She spares me a brief glance from beneath the hand cradling her forehead.

“Good morning, Sevrina,” she says, trying to feign a pleasant demeanour through her pain. “I trust you had a pleasant night’s sleep.  Well, I had an exceptionally miserable one.  The dreams were… vivid.  Enough to frighten me awake, and yet I cannot remember any of them.  And then of course, the dogs were feeling active.  Hello, Portia.”

“Coffee, Milady?”

“Mmm.  Yes please.”

With a nod, Portia goes to a gleaming golden contraption nestled in the far corner.  The Countess strokes her temples and lowers her hand from her face.  The full force of her gaze falls upon me.

“Ah, you’ve changed.  Is that the ensemble I sent down?  My, my… the difference is astounding.  One would hardly recognize you.  That fit appears to be correct… Those garments you came with were most unkind to you.”

Under her shameless scrutiny, my face starts to prickle with heat, and I wrap my arms protectively around myself.

“Who would have guessed you were so becoming underneath?” She continues delightedly, “And how nicely those colours compliment your tones.  I do have an impeccable eye, don’t I Portia?”

“Absolutely impeccable, Milady,” Portia agrees with a wink.  “You look stunning, Sevrina.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the Countess agrees.  “Please, sit, Sevrina.”

A servant pulls out a chair for me and I thank him as I sit.  I sink into the plush and struggle to lift my head straight as the Countess talks excitedly about colours she’d like to see me wearing.  I have a feeling that this outfit will not be the last one I’m told to wear in my say here.

Just then, a sumptuous egg dish is placed before me, drawing my attention.  Meanwhile, the chamberlain bustles to the Countess to report some goings on.  I drown out the chatter and focus on my meal, marvelling at its delicate texture.  And yet my eyes keep flicking up to the painting on the wall.  It feels as though it’s watching me.

“Well, you may tell them that they have no choice in the matter,” The Countess says with finality.  “That will be all.” 

The chamberlain bows dutifully and ducks out of the room.  The Countess turns her gaze back to me.

“Now then, Sevrina,” her voice shakes me from my thoughts, “I understand that you have your cards with you?”

Cautiously, I pull my bag up from the floor and into my lap.

“Splendid,” she says with a smile.  “Come closer, please.”

The servants promptly relocated me to a seat at the Countess’ side.  This is the closest we’ve been since our first meeting.  It almost makes me nervous to breathe.

“First and foremost, in thirteen days,” she announces, “We will be celebrating the Count’s birthday.  Preparations, as you know, are well underway.  So I must ask you to be expedient in this.  It’s not my intention to rush you, but by the time the day is out, I will need to know whether you intend to cooperate with me.  Unless, perchance, you have decided to do so already?”

“No,” I mutter lowly.

The Countess scowls, a twitch in her brow.

“No, you have not decided, or no you will not cooperate?”

“No, I haven’t decided….  Please understand I want very much to help you, but I feel as if I’m very out of my depth.”

The Countess closes her eyes, steepling her fingers.

“Ah.  That’s perfectly understandable.  Take your time—I want you to be sure of yourself.  After all, hesitant ally is of no use to me, and a reluctant one is even worse.  Either way, I would like to request another card reading.  I trust that my fortune will have changed.”

Her eyes open and her gaze falls pointedly on the bag in my lap.

I’m compelled to pull it closer to me, but under the watchful eye of my hostess, I resist.  Instead, I retrieve my deck from its spot and place it on the table.

“After all, this is a new day, and I have you now,” She says with confidence.  Her attentive gaze never leaves the cards.  I pick them up and start to shuffle, feeling the faint tingling of magic through my fingertips.  I focus my attention there, and let my thoughts fade to silence.

I draw three cards from the pack and place them on the table, face down.  I turn the first.

“The Emperor, reversed.” I say.

The Countess rests her chin on her knuckles.  “And what does he have to say for me?”

I peer into the face of the card, and I listen, explaining his message with a voice that threatens to shake.

“You wear a façade of power, a distraction from the powerlessness you feel.  Your need to control the world around you is a reflection of the chaos within you, and now you’re using your authority to… to feed your ego, to consume those around you in your hunger for dominance…”

I falter and can’t continue.  I want to crawl under the table until I’m allowed to go home. 

There is a collective silence.  No one daring to so much as breathe.  I hadn’t realized the servants were watching.  Their faces look stricken.  Portia’s hands cover her mouth in shock.

And yet… the Countess looks _pleased_.  She lifts the card form the table and examines it with a curious eye.

“I see,” she chuckles to herself, “That is very presumptuous of him.”

Still laughing to herself, she rises.  The servants quiver with anticipation

“I should like to invite you to stroll,” she says, “I trust you’ve no other engagements?  There is something I would like to show you.”

The Countess isn’t angry?  Am I understanding correctly?

She breezes past me to the door, smiling.  I gather my cards haphazardly and return them to my bag, slinging it across my shoulder.

Once I’ve fallen into step with her, she turns to me and smiles.  “I think this will please you,” she says, “But then again, you are a mystery.  I could be wrong.  Portia?”

“Coming!”

We exit to the hall, leaving the still silent room behind us.

The Countess’ steps are effortlessly swift.  She moves with a grace as if every motion her body makes is that if the world’s greatest dancer.   It takes some effort to keep up with the pace of her long, elegant strides.  I don’t pay much attention to my surroundings because I am still in knots about the reading, and still so confused about the Countess’ startling reaction to it. 

“Well, then—here we are,” The Countess announces, coming to a halt. 

We have arrived before a panel in the wall, three by four times my height.  It’s crafted of smooth wood in all the colours of rippling honey, and carved with dizzying intricacy is a great tree in the height of maturity.  Its winding roots coil around each other and into the floor. Its fruit are inlaid with jewels and precious stones, its leaves in mother of pearl.  The panel glitters and glows from every angle.  I’m so dazzled by its beauty that I forget about the card reading and reach out to caress the beautiful craftsmanship, running my fingers over the shell inlays and wood panels, which are so perfectly flush my fingertips can’t feel their edges.  Portia has caught up with us and comes to stand beside me, fussing with a large ring of keys.  Nervousness is radiating from her in jittery waves.  I hope she isn’t still upset about the reading, and then my own nerves return.

“Portia, if you would be so kind,” The Countess requests in a gentle tone.

“Of course, Milady!” says Portia breathlessly.  I take a closer look at the key ring as she fiddles with it—There are about a dozen, each carved of the same wood as the panel, and each bearing a distinct jewel.

One by one, she finds the locks in the panel, though I wonder how.  Their locations seem completely random.  With each key, the roots of the tree start to unwind from each other, pulling free from the floor.  When all of the locks have been turned, the panel folds upon itself on either side like a paper fan.  It’s an astonishing piece of artistry. 

Portia presses the folded panels of the door gently aside, and when the room beyond it is revealed, my mouth falls agape in wonder.  I suck in a breath, tasting the sweet, woody smell of old books and aged papers.  It’s a magnificent library.

There are books everywhere—Books winding up the walls, reaching for the ceiling, and all the way down to the floor again.  Asra has told me tales about places like this, I’ve always wanted to see one for myself.  I can’t disguise my unreserved joy in seeing one now.

“Do you read, Sevrina?” The Countess asks, tickled by my reaction.  I nod.  She tempers her surprise.  “Somehow, I suspected that you might,” she says, stepping into the room and gesturing me to follow.

I follow her in and the door closes behind us with a rhythmic, mechanical sound.  Portia trails at our heels, fidgeting with the ring of keys.

“It’s a great gift, to read,” The Countess says softly, “Where I come from, it is shared amongst all citizens, regardless of birth, but woefully uncommon here…  That is something I would like to change.  I suppose you were taught to read by a relative?  Or your master, perhaps?  Everything I’ve heard from the townspeople suggests that the two of you are _very close_.”

I just blink at her stupidly, not understanding what she’s suggesting, and Portia laughs softly.

“Milady is in a teasing mood, this morning,” Portia clarifies with a giggle, trying to lift my dumbstruck expression.

“Indeed,” The Countess laughs reaching out her elegant, hennaed hand to briefly pat my shoulder, “The headache is lifting.  Now, then… This way, if you please.”

There are books of all kinds.  Tall, crisp volumes on mathematics beside broad leather atlases of faraway lands.  I had no idea so many books existed, and each one with years, maybe lifetimes of wisdom to share…  My fingers flutter at my sides, itching to run along their spines, but I resist.  Books like these are worth more than anything I could afford to barter.

“You know, Sevrina,” The Countess says sweetly, “You _are_ my guest, and I want my guest to be happy in her stay, so if you should like to return here, you need only ask.  You are welcome to read as many of these books as you would like to, but for the moment…”  She stops before an alcove, nestled between the shelves, and gestures. “I would have your undivided attention here.”

Intrigued, I peer around the bookcase.

Below a tiny window, cast in its slim ray of daylight, is a modest writing desk—unassuming, humble, quiet.  It is stacked with books, journals and papers, scrolls tucked in its nooks and drawers.  Despite the clutter, everything is carefully organized—Someone’s place of study, preserved in time.

“Sevrina, do you know why Doctor Devorak came to the palace?” The Countess asks plainly.  When I shake my head, she nods and says, “He was summoned to concoct a cure for the disease.”

My blood runs cold.  _The disease_.  The Red Plague, as it was called, brought Vesuvia to her knees.  It claimed young and old, frail and strong.  No one was immune, and then it came to a sudden halt, and disappeared.  I can’t remember the last time I saw the tell-tale red in the whites of someone’s eyes.

“The Count and I called upon the city to whoever might be of use in a quest for the cure,” The Countess explains.  “Physicians, scientists, alchemists—even fortune tellers.  All were invited to the palace in hopes that our resources may aid in their research.  Whosoever was able to find a cure, the city and the palace both would be forever in their debt.  The Count called in the Doctor because he trusted him—although he had been, shall we say _perturbed_ about the amputation of his left arm… but the Doctor had saved his life in performing the procedure on the battlefield, and was called in as one of the first physicians on the case of concocting a cure.  Perhaps he was plotting even then, but the Doctor accepted our invitation, as did your master, Asra, though he worked with my husband.  I’m not sure I’ve ever met him.”

Asra was here, then?  Is that how the Doctor came to know him?

Her gaze shifts to the window, a strange shadow crosses her lovely sunlit face.  Curious, I lean in such a way as to get a better view of the window.

Odd.  It’s exactly in the right spot to see the willow tree which hangs over the fountain in the garden below.

The garden with the peonies.

“While they toiled in search of a cure,” The Countess resumes, resting her hand atop the pile of books on the desk.  “The palace provided everything they might need.  This desk belonged to the Doctor.  I have had its contents examined laboriously, and yet nothing of consequence has been found, though with such a volume of evidence, I wonder if something may yet be hiding here—Something I may have overlooked.  Perhaps you will have better luck than I in finding it.”

Her touch lingers on the cover of a well-worn tome.  I nod in understanding.

“Well, then.  Good luck, Sevrina.”

She draws away, passing me and perfuming the air with jasmine.  Portia follows, and once they’ve passed the threshold, the panels fold out into their original shape.

I’m left in silence, alone at the Doctor’s desk.  I can feel that it holds secrets, but where to start?  At a glance, there’s a stack of books, a leather-bound portfolio, and scrolls tucked away in a little row of drawers.  I examine the books. It’s as good a place to start as any.

There are three towering stacks of books.  Some of them are threadbare in their bindings; others are of rich leather and leafed with gold.  I pull a well weathered tome from the top of a stack and run my fingers gingerly over the cover, tracing the beaten, bevelled embossing with curious fingertips.  It appears to be a surgical guide. 

I open the book and begin to flip through the pages, carefully scanning what I find here.  I note with some discomfort that some of the diagrams are stained with spatters of old blood.  Most pages bear graphic diagrams and anatomical drawings, and some of the illustrations are so striking it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.  I keep turning pages, my visceral curiosity goading my attentions further through the book.  Many pages are scrawled over with the Doctor’s notes.  Some of the writing has a distinct quality of frenzy and frustration—A drawing of a physician using a curled tool to bleed a patient has a strong, dark _NO_ scribbled beside it—But other than that, his handwriting is very difficult to decipher.  I can hardly make heads of tails of it at first.

Moving on to the folio, I pick it up with tentative fingers and open it slowly. Loose leaf papers are arranged neatly to one side, trapped behind a fraying ribbon sewn into the bindings.  They are a little gold with age, and thin, almost transparent.  Most of them appear to be records, dates, times and incomprehensible scribble, but others are intricate drawings.  My gaze lingers over these, somewhat surprised to find them.  They are meticulously detailed, but have no recognizable forms.  It seems odd that they would be here among the Doctor’s work.  Somehow, the patterns and shapes look very familiar, like I should know them on sight, but I can’t place it.   They look almost like… maps?  No, they’re not maps...  I feel as though I’m missing the picture while it’s plain in front of my eyes.  I wonder if I could find something to clue me in in some of Asra’s books back at the shop.  I cast a glance behind me.  The air is still, and I’m satisfied that I’m alone.  I roll one of the drawings into a tight scroll, and stow it in my bag.

I move from the folio and unfurl one of the scrolls.  The paper is soft, almost powdery to the touch.  It is written in the same hurried, fluid scrawl that is difficult to read.  At the bottom of the page, isolated from the dense swath of cursive, is a single letter J.  A signature… Now, if it’s signed at the bottom… My suspicions appear to be correct—the letter appears to be addressed at the top.  I narrow my eyes at the scribbles on the page, trying to make sense of them.

Dear…Dear sister?

Once I’ve seen the words, I’m fairly sure of them.  Yes.  The letter is most certainly addressed, “Dear sister…”

A sister… Did he have one?  As far as I knew, the Doctor was a bachelor with no family to speak of.  My mouth twists, uncertain what to make of this new information.  I wonder if finding the sister would be possible, and try to ascertain some knowledge of her whereabouts but I can’t find anything in the letter, and none of the other papers here seem to be connected to this letter.

I jolt at a sudden ratcheting sound behind me, quickly rewinding the scroll and returning it to its place.  The back wall parts and Portia walks into the library.

“Sevrina, I hope I didn’t startle you,” she says.  “There’s something going on out by the garden.  The Countess is requesting your presence at once.”

I turn my head to glance at the desk once more.  She steps forward and peeks over my shoulder with a curious eye.

“Did you find anything interesting?” She asks with a hopeful tone.  “Clues?”

I shake my head.  Nothing I found has given me anything relevant for the Countess.

“Well, it will take a while to go through everything,” she says softly, “You can try again later, but for now, I’ve been asked to bring you to the gardens.”

She surveys the desk, tidying everywhere I’ve touched and returning everything to its place.

“I’ve got the keys,” she says cheerfully, “So you can find me the next time you want to have a look.  But for now, let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

Portia puts an arm around my back and ushers me away from the desk, through the library and out into the hall again.  Her pace is hurried, far from the spirited step I’d normally expect. I get the feeling she is in a hurry to get me away from the library.  She doesn’t speak.  The longer we walk in silence, the more anxious I become.

The garden below is livelier in the day.  A symphony of birdsong echoes from every direction.  I spy the countess, looking out over the garden with her hands held sagely behind her back.  When we step on to the veranda, Portia announces our presence, and the Countess turns her head to me with a lovely smile.

“Forgive me for drawing you away, Sevrina,” she begins, “I do not wish to obstruct your investigation.  It just so happens I was thinking about the fortune you gave me earlier.”

Oh, Gods.

She turns to face me fully.  Her expression is mysteriously neutral.  My blood starts racing and I struggle to still myself from flying into a panic.

“Rumour would have it that I dislike fortune tellers,” she begins.  “This is not entirely true.  I only dislike those that profit by telling their clients whatever they want to hear, or by saying whatever they want to say.”

She shoots me a pointed look.  I swallow hard.

“I’m not accusing you,” she explains, “I would merely suggest that most fortune tellers in this city are fakes.  And yet, I do feel that you are the genuine article, though I cannot explain why.  So I have devised a test.  More of a game, really.”

Her face splits into a mischievous smile.  I start to doubt that I will like this game…. In fact, I doubt it very much.

“If you win, then I will know your worth and question it no further,” She continues, looking ever amused at my reaction, “And if you lose, all the better for you, isn’t it?  I shall dismiss you, and you need never set foot here again.  You’ll return to your life as normal.”

I look up at her, blinking dumbly, and she laughs lowly to herself, watching me nervously shift my weight. 

“Now then,” she says after a moment, “Let us summon your competitors.  Portia, would you kindly call the prey?”

“The prey?”  Portia says with surprise, which quickly melts away to understanding and a half laugh.  “Oh!  The outfits make sense now.”

Portia goes to the edge of the balcony.  She takes in a long breath, and, placing her two little fingers against her bottom lip, unleashes a piercing whistle that makes me instinctively cover my ears.  As I move to the balustrade, the Countess follows at my shoulder, peering down into the garden.  Gradually, two figures emerge from the shrubbery, shuffling with obvious reluctance.  They are dressed head to toe in very decorative, fanciful costumes.  One as a rabbit, the other a deer, and both pure white.

“The game is to hide and hunt,” The Countess announces.  “Sevrina, you will be the hunter. These two will be your prey.  You need not hesitate on their behalf, they have earned their place.  You, down there!”

The costumed figures jerk to attention. 

“You may remove your masks for the moment,” the Countess calls.

With cautious, awkward movements, the rabbit and deer unfasten the masks from their faces.  I recognize them at once.  The guards from the bridge—so this is their punishment.

“Milady, this is embarrassing,” One of them calls up to us, red-cheeked and pleading.

“ _You_ are embarrassing!” The Countess snaps.  “Have you already forgotten how beastly you were to our guest? It’s only fitting that you should be dressed as such!”

The guards drop to a humble kneel, cautious of their costumes.

“Yes, Milady.”

Content, the Countess turns to me, a sympathetic crease to her brow.

“I do hope it does not trouble you to chase them,” she adds, “I could scarce believe it when I was told how they behaved toward you when you arrived at the bridge—to greet my guest with threats was most unacceptable.”

“They were only trying to protect you,” I protest weakly.

Below, the guards lower their gaze.  One is quite red in the face.

A flash of anger ignites in the Countess’ luminous eyes.

“No, they were only satisfying their own rampant paranoia.  Not mine.  Their lust for violence and intimidation is mortifying.  I shall not excuse it.”

If possible, the guards shrink a little further.  I can’t help but to pity them.

“They were worried about you,” I say quietly.

“If they were,” The Countess replies, “They might have consulted with me.  Instead, they continued to act as they please.  However, if it is so distasteful to you, I suppose I can devise another punishment.

“No, Milady!” calls up one of the guards. “No need for that!”

“We…we’re honoured to do this!” calls the other.

The Countess smiles, “It’s settled then.  Mask yourselves.  I shall explain the purpose of our game.  This morning at breakfast, I found myself considering the task before us.  We seek to find one man in a city of thousands—a city where gossip moves more swiftly than we possibly could.  Daunting, but not impossible.  Fate has already drawn him back to town for us, but for what purpose, and for how long?  Our window of opportunity may be quite slim.  I came to the conclusion that we must not pursue him without knowing exactly where to look.  Easier said than done, of course.  The Doctor’s desk may very well hold the key, but how long before we find it?  And then I thought, perhaps we might use what we have in another way.  Perhaps we might use magic.”

Her gaze sets upon me, gaging my reaction with a smile that makes me shrink back nervously.

“Is it not possible that something in that desk holds meaning to the Doctor?”  The Countess asks.  “Something dear to him, an attachment that might linger to this day?  Even a single leaf of paper may possess a tether to his soul, so that a magician need only follow it.  And if that is indeed possible, is your magic refined enough to do it?”

I bite my lip.  Given what I’ve found in the desk so far, it’s very possible, but I’m not sure how to follow it.  I’ll be flying blind.

“Countess,” I stammer, “My magic has never been used for anything like this….”

“It is about to be,” says the Countess, “Now, each of your prey will be trying to evade you.  Moving targets, as the Doctor will be.  They will hide wherever they please.  Your goal is to hunt one of them down.  One of them to whom I have given a single leaf of paper.  Your Emperor card.”

My hear stutters and my eyes go wide.  The Countess returns my incredulous stare with a pleasant, shameless smile, as if to dare me to challenge the reality of it.

This morning at the reading she took the card from the table to examine it.  She ever gave it back, this is no bluff. She’s really given one of them my Emperor card.  Not mine, but _Asra’s_.  I feel a hot flush of panic course through my veins….  I may not yet understand it, but his deck is uncommonly powerful.  To lose one of the major Arcana…  Asra would never forgive me…  I was careless in the Countess’s presence.  I won’t make that mistake again.

“Well, then, do you understand the instructions?”  She asks.  “It is quite simple—Find the guard carrying your Emperor card before the day is out.  So long as you can do this, I’m confident you will be able to lead me to the Doctor’s door.”

She lays a hand on my trembling shoulder and leans in to speak softly.  “Trust your intuition, Sevrina.  I’ve trusted mine, and it led me to you.”

The Countess glides to the balustrade, folding her arms over her chest.

“You, down there!” she calls.

“Yes, Milady!”

“Run.  Run as if capture meant your swift and certain death.”

The guards scramble to their feet.  In a flash, they have bolted in opposite directions.

“Oh my, I do hope they know I’m not serious about that,” she says idly.  “And Sevrina?  You may pursue them at my mark.  I implore you not you disappoint me.”

The sound of beating footfalls is growing further and further away.  I swallow hard.

“Now then,” The Countess says with a placid smile, “Let the game begin!”

Cursing my fate, I spring into action, dashing down the steps and into the garden.  On the veranda above, the Countess is calling sweetly at my heels.  “You have until dawn!  Do take care in the night, Sevrina!”

“Good luck!” Portia calls down.

Skidding on the gravel, I whip my head left and right.  To the right, snapping branches—the more cumbersome rabbit guard.  To the left, muffled footsteps, beating the earth at a furious pace.  The deer guard, who looked particularly nervous. 

I close my eyes and try to regulate my breathing to steady my growing panic.  I cast out my magic and feel it feebly grasp at nothing.  I cannot hear the Emperor’s voice over my frenzied nerves, but something… something tells me to follow the rabbit guard.  I follow under a marble arch, and the foliage on either side of the path grows thicker.  It looks as if the guard barrelled straight into the bushes—impressive.  Feeling overdressed in the Countess’ fine clothes, I duck into the rabbit hole, leaves tickling at my arms and face.

I’m getting that card back.

And when I get it back, I just might give the Countess a piece of my mind.

Maybe... I’ve only been at the palace a day, but I can admit she’s kept me one step behind.


	5. The Emperor:  Night

Up ahead, I see light dappling through a break in the leaves.  I charge through to the other side only to find myself in the hedge maze that I wandered through last night.  I swipe at my beading brow.  They’re not going to make this easy for me.  Strangely, I feel invigorated now that I have focused my nerves into determination.  I will get that card back.  I couldn’t bear to disappoint Asra….

 Cool air sweeps past my ankles, guiding me into the shadowy maze.  The winter sun is waning toward the horizon when I reach the clearing.  My eyes go first to the peonies, and then to the fountain.  After hunting the rabbit guard for hours, my heart thrills when I finally spot him here, in the clearing, but he’s not alone.  At the other edge of the perimeter from where I stand, the rabbit is backed up against a pale tree.  Creeping toward him with a rattling growl are the lanky white dogs, Mercedes and Melchior.  Their teeth are bared and they are poised to strike, but after bursting through the bushes, I’ve got the full attention of both dogs and the guard, whose eyes go wide at the sight of me.  He dares not move.  The hounds go rigid. 

Mercedes starts bounding toward me, with Melchior close behind.  I stagger back cautiously, but they are already upon me, looking up at me hopefully.  To my shock, they start sniffing me all over, short puffs from their slender snouts tickling my skin.  Before I know it, they’re nuzzling against me, tails wagging in avid interest and prodding me with their noses.  I look up at the guard and we exchange a look of profound confusion before I feel a tug at my hip. 

While Melchior laps at my palm, Mercedes is looking at me expectantly.  With a huff, she tugs at my bag a second time and whines.  Melchior sits back, panting with a wide grin.

What could they possibly want?  I let my bag slide down and the dogs start to whine.  I rifle through my possessions, the stolen document from the library and my magical necessities—surely it isn’t those.  Impatient, Melchior butts the bottom of my bag with his angular muzzle, and into my hand rolls my gift from Portia.  The pomegranate.

As soon as it emerges from the bag, both sets of glistening jaws drop open, tongues lolling to the side.  Their tails whip the air with excitement, high-pitched, hopeful cries coming from both animals.

“Is this what you’re after?”  I laugh. 

Slowly, cautious of their hungry mouths, I crouch down and let the pomegranate roll away from my palm.  The dogs dive for it at once, wet shredding sounds and vicious bickering.  This is my chance.  I leap to my feet, ready to charge after the rabbit guard… who is already gone.

A gurgle of writhing frustration makes its way up my throat.  I rake my hands through my hair roughly and crouch down, trying to still my anger before it bubbles to tears.  I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down so that I can strategize, and then get to my feet.  I’m considering my next move when the hounds sidle up next to me, their mouths stained a gruesome red.  Both nudge my flanks as they pass, trotting just ahead of me, turning to me curiously, licking their juice-stained chops.

They… are they asking me to follow?  It’s a hunt, after all—maybe they want to join in?  Maybe they can pick up on the rabbit guard’s scent….

Though I’m apprehensive, I follow the dogs back to the maze.  The trotting pace they set has me jogging after them.  Where are they taking me?  Whenever I slow, they turn to stare until I catch up.  Our winding path leads us to the edge of the gardens, where a great wall of lemonstone rises high overhead.  The sun is sinking down over the horizon line.  A few stars are already twinkling in the twilight sky overhead.  I had really hoped I’d have found the card by nightfall, and I’m struggling to stay positive…

After a while, the dogs come to a halt, each on either side on a overgrown arch streaked with grime.  At its apex are two marble goats, their horns clashing in eternal combat.  Mercedes sits on one side, Melchior takes the other.  They want me to pass under the arch.  The longer I stand and wait, the more their faces go sour, and the more sure I am that there is something odd about the passage they want me to take.

It has a strange aura around it.  I feel magic pulsing there like a leaden heartbeat.  My intuition tells me to stay away.  Far away.

A rusty groan draws all of our attentions to a small door in the wall, burnished and dusty.  It’s open, just a sliver. The light that pours through it is impossibly bright.

 Is that… an exit from the palace grounds?

The dogs seem to sense my realization, fur bristling around their swanlike necks.

I move around the arch, cautiously, as if I’m taking it in with wonder.  I get as close as I can before I bolt to the side, dashing for the open door.  Outraged, the dogs scramble after me, shrill barking as I get to the door.  Their teeth snap just shy of my heels as I dive through the door and kick it firmly shut, panting for breath.  On the other side, jaws and claws gnash viciously against the rusted metal, but, mercifully, the door doesn’t budge.  I get to my feet and stagger back with deep, heaving breaths.

Wind sweeps through my garments, and I shiver with cold as I squint over the valley.  It’s steeper than I expected, and the brush is untamed.  I don’t mind.

With one last glance behind me, I break into a run down the hill.  The golden grass whips my limbs, and sweet-smelling air streams around me. 

I’m free, whatever that means, for now.

The sky is growing ever darker and the air is quite cold on my skin as I make my way back into the city.  I don’t suppose the Countess had the game in mind when she sent me these fine, light clothes. The rolling hills level out. Silky brush grass grows sparse and gives way to a cracked, flat plane of rose-coloured clay.  I’m in an unfamiliar part of town. 

My breath grows short as tremors of anxiety radiate in my gut.  I’m trembling and my eyes sting with tears.  I’m cold, I’ve lost Asra’s card, I’ve escaped from the palace, and now I’m lost.  Echoes of Asra’s familiar voice soothe over my mind’s ear.  _Start with your breath.  Think only about your breath.  Savour your breath.  Lead with your heart and be present…._  

I repeat the mantra until I find the calm I need, and I gather up an aura of protective energy.  It won’t hide me, but it will allow me to travel unbothered.  I cast out my magic and listen to my intuition.  Without knowing where I’m going, I begin to walk.

As I get closer to the buildings, I pass a group of spindly cats picking over piles of charred, oily fish bones.  They pay me no mind as I walk between them, their inky forms slide around my feet, looking up to me hopefully for food as I pass.  I follow the sound of rushing water as profound thirst clings to the back of my throat.  The dull roar leads me to a narrow street, its shabby stones are layered like scales.  Clustered apartments line the passage, their shutters thrown wide.  Conversation and squabbling spill out into the thick night air, and suddenly, a door ahead of me swings open, casting a warm light down three jagged stone steps.  Raucous laughter and jovial shouting spill out of the doorway, while boots clip jauntily down the stairs.

I can’t believe my eyes.  It’s the last man I least expected to see.  Tall and slim, auburn hair, angular features, and an eyepatch.  My insides leap at the sight of him.  I cover my mouth to hold in the sound of my excited gasp.

“Oh, I’ll be back, just stepping out for some air,” he calls to someone inside.  The door swings shut, but doesn’t latch, and I stumble back as if the muscles in my legs have liquefied.

Doctor Devorak.  His back is turned to me as he sweeps his long, gloved fingers through his hair, and his white shirt flutters in the cold breeze.  Not knowing what else to do, I try to back away but something strikes the back of my knees, toppling me into an empty barrel with a surprised yelp.  The next thing I know, I’m staring at the stars, limbs flailing uselessly as quick footsteps approach.

“That was quite a tumble,” the Doctor calls with a laugh, “Are you alright?”

He leans over the barrel, extending a hand, and then rears back in surprise at the sight of my face.

“Oh my Gods… You… What are you doing here?”  He gasps.  “It’s a little early in the evening to be stumbling around alleys, isn’t it?  I’m joking—it’s never too early.  Come on, upsy-diasy.”

His firm grip encircles each of my wrists, and I’m hauled out of the barrel like a snail shucked from its shell.  I stagger forward into the Doctor’s broad chest as my possessions spill out from my hip bag.  Knocked off balance, he promptly shifts his grip to my upper arms and steps back, stabilizing us both while I cling to his shoulders to regain my footing.  For a moment, his eye meets mine in surprise at our sudden proximity.

“You’re really a lovely little thing, aren’t you?” he breathes, his gaze locked with mine for a long moment before he remembers himself, stepping back and  releasing me with a friendly pat to my arms.

Why should it thrill me so to be so near to him?  He’s supposed to be dangerous.  A murderer.  Why isn’t that what’s causing me to tremble?  What about him is so familiar and welcoming to me?

“Last I heard, you were bound for the palace,” he stammers.  “Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

What neck of the woods?  Finally recovering my wits, I take a quick survey of my surroundings.  Judging by the barrels and the noise, we’re behind a tavern.  A hole in the wall, hidden from the street.  Painted on the door is a cackling black bird, lying back on a crescent moon.  _The Rowdy Raven_ , it reads.  I’ve never heard of the place.

“Oh, what’s this?” the Doctor mutters.  I look back to see him gathering up my scattered belongings, and he’s taken interest in the scroll I stole from his desk in the library.  His curious fingers are already unrolling the yellow page.

“You tell me,” I reply.

“Pardon?”

“It’s your drawing.”

He frowns and scans the page with avid interest.  Before long, he grows pale.  For a moment, I worry that he’s going to be sick, and I step forward to help.  As I near, he clears his throat, and then he winds up the scroll and hands it back to me.

“So it is,” he says softly.  “Where did you find that?”

“Your desk,” I reply.

“My desk?”

I nod.  “In the library.”

He blinks at me in confusion.

“…At the palace,” he whispers, aghast.

A searching glance to the side, and I see a flinch of pain cross over his countenance.

“Ah, yes, my desk at the library at the palace,” he sighs.  “Little window right above it…”

A dusty bottle strikes the wall behind us, followed by an angry shout from one of the windows above.  The noise draws a grating squawk from overhead, where a nervous, skinny raven is perched on the eaves.  The Doctor passes a hand over his face, then places it on his hip and casts a glance to the halfway-open door. Its warm light glows between us.  He turns to me with a look of interest in his eye.

“Well, I’m parched,” he announces. “I think I’ll head back in…  I, uh… Are you thirsty?  You’re welcome to join me if you’d like to.”

Really?  My face must reflect my eagerness, but also my uncertainty.

“I do still owe you for that card reading,” He says flirtatiously, “Come in.  My treat.  I’d like you to.”

I smile, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but he responds in kind.

“I am thirsty,” I say with a soft laugh.

Warily, I step into the shadow of the Doctor’s looming figure.  His face splits into a brilliant grin.

“Oh, fantastic,” he exhales, his expression suffused with delight.  “Please, allow me.”

He beckons me up the stairs to the door, easing it fully open and leading me through to the warmth inside.  It’s only just past sundown, but the tavern is in full swing.  The noise is cacophonous.  A few musicians are tinkering in one corner, but the music isn’t started up yet.  I hear the rattle of tambourines and a few exhales of a squeezed concertina.  The barkeep, wide, scar-faced and barrel-armed, gives the Doctor a cheeky salute when we pass by.  A cackling drunkard swings out a wooden leg, which Doctor Devorak politely pushes aside.

He ushers me through the tumult with practiced ease, his long arm hovering around my shoulders to shield me from the rambunctious crowd.  I duck as the haggard raven flutters in after us from the alley, squawking lowly and beating its wings against the windows.  Tutting, my escort’s arm settles around my upper back as he guides me to a cosy booth in the back.  I thrill even at this very chaste, light touch.

“What can I get you to drink?”  He asks politely as I take a seat.

I scan the bar at a distance.  Colourful bottles line the walls, some flavoured with roots and herbs, others with coins, rocks and even beetles.  The Doctor must notice my apprehension.

“You’re not a drinker, are you?” he laughs.

I smile and shrug, laughing, “I’m admittedly more partial to tea.”

He looks at me with a winsome smile.

“How do you like your teas?” He asks.  “Sweet?  Smoky?  Bitter?  Fruity?”

“Sweet or fruity, usually,” I laugh.  He smiles wide.

“How about I take care of it, and you make yourself comfortable?”

I nod.  “Alright, Doctor.” 

He grins delightedly.  “I’ll be right back.”

He breezes past me towards the bar.  I settle into my seat, fidgeting with the scroll in my lap as my eye starts to wander.  Nearby, a pair of old crones are hunched over a card game, attended by an energetic, squabbling crowd.  The sight reminds me of Asra’s deck, as well as the other contents of my bag.

Stomach dropping, I dive for it to check.  Miraculously, the deck is safe and sound in the bottom of my bag, though its energy is abnormal.

Of course, with the Emperor missing…

Still, I relax, even more so when I find my missing possessions stacked on the bench beside the Doctor’s seat.  I gather them into my hands and tuck them back into my hip bag. 

Smiling faintly, I find myself seeking him out at the bar, where he is chatting with the barkeep.  Laughter erupts between them, audible from my spot in the corner.  He looks perfectly at ease here.  His aura is so different from when I met him at the shop.  He is warm, beautiful...  I shift my gaze timidly to the table top as he turns, making his way back with our drinks and he sets one before me.

“There you are,” he says, presenting it to me.  “I think this should suit your palette.  Let me know if I’ve guessed correctly—if you don’t like it, I’ll be happy to get you something else.” 

He slides into the booth across from me, gulping down his drink with gusto.  Wary, I peer into the golden liquid in my cup.  No beetles, thank goodness, and it smells faintly of fruit.  I take a sip. It’s refreshing, barely sweet, and fizzes on the way down.  As soon as it washes down my throat, I need more.  I’ve been running all day without even a sip of water, and it hits me powerfully.  The Doctor slowly lowers his stein to watch me drain my cup, eye gleaming brightly in the warm light.

“Look at you,” he mutters laughingly, “You’re dry as a bone.  Don’t be shy, drink.”

A few more gulps and the cup is empty.  While I lick the seam of my lips, the Doctor laughs.

“Are you alright?” He asks with amusement.

I nod and laugh.  “Sorry… I told you I was thirsty.”

“Don’t be,” he says, sliding his stein to the side and leaning in over the table, “You needn’t worry about etiquette around me.  If you feel thirst, you should feel perfectly contented to quench it.”

All I can do is I smile, then avert my eyes shyly.  His gaze on me is far from malicious, but it’s hot.  The butterflies in my stomach are back, and fluttering rapidly as ever. 

“You know, you’ve not told me your name,” he whispers.

With his gloved fingers interlocking on the table between us, he gives me a look of encouragement.

“My name is Sevrina,” I say simply. Again, his face flickers with pain which quickly melts away.

“Sevrina,” he whispers blissfully, closing his eyes as he lets the shape of my name roll through his mouth, “Sevrina… Ah, what a beautiful name.  A musical name. _Sevrina_ … Sevrina, you can call me Julian.”

He offers me his gloved hand, and although I hesitate for a moment, I place mine in his.  He brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles, all the while never breaking eye contact with me. It extracts a shaky breath from me and I smile unwittingly… His expression brightens to a toothy grin.

“Believe me when I say I am utterly enchanted to make a proper acquaintance with you, Sevrina,” he says silkily.  I cross and uncross my legs unseen beneath the table.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I whisper, drawing out a languid smile from the both of us, then he remembers himself.

“So I have to ask,” he says, breaking away from his flirtatious attitude, “How did you wind up in that alley?  You know, at first I thought you might have come for me?  On behalf of the palace, of course.  But I’m not wearing any chains yet, and you’re covered in burrs.  Now, I may be projecting, but I’m sensing that you’re on the run.”

His knowing look makes me bristle.  No one is paying us any mind, but I’m still tempted to cover his chatty mouth.  Chuckling, he reaches across the table and past my ear, and pulls a bramble from my shoulder.

“Escaped from the palace… down the southward side?  Ah, we have so much in common already, my Dear.”  
“Please, keep your voice down,” I whisper.  “Don’t draw attention to it.”  
He does as I ask him to.  “I’m sorry, Sevrina….  Do you have anywhere to go?  Back to the magic shop?”

I sit up straight at the mention of home, but he raises a cautionary finger.

“Oh, but that is the very first place they’ll look.  I can still tell you how to get there, but…”

“You can?”

He nods.  “You bet I can.  But first, I’d like to take another look at that document.”

A painless trade.  I hand over the scroll and he spreads it out flat on the table.  Once exposed, the contents steal the smile from his face.  He leans over the page, frowning in concentration.  I scoot around the bend of the table and sit close beside him, looking at it over his shoulder.  The map-like, winding patterns draw me in once again.  I find myself leaning over the scroll for a closer look. I only look away when I feel his eye on me.

“You’re very interested in it,” he says softly.

“It looks familiar,” I explain, “But I can’t figure out what it is.”

This seems to surprise him, and he peers down at the picture as if looking down a bottomless pit.

“Oh.  Well… This diagram is a slice of… Ah.  Of a human brain.”

I feel my eyes go wide.  Wordless, I tentatively trace the weaving tendrils with cautious fingertips.

“That’s… they call that the _grey matter_.  It makes up most of the organ.  The coils are unique, actually, to each individual.”

“How many individuals?” I ask.

“Beg pardon?” he says with confusion, looking up from the paper.  I meet his gaze and he stiffens with trepidation.

“How many individual human brains have you seen sliced like this?” I ask.

The Doctor steeples his fingers and rests his chin on his thumbs.  His expression is ghastly.

“I wish I could tell you,” he sighs.  “There are other drawings, aren’t there?  At the palace?”

I nod. He drums his fingers on his clenched teeth in clear distress.

“Well, you’d better put this one back, then,” he sighs.  “Believe me, they’ll notice it’s gone.  I don’t want you to get into any trouble over it.”

As if he can’t stand to look at it a moment longer, he rolls it up and hands it to me. I take the scroll and stow it in my bag.  It feels heavier, as if the page itself took on the weight of his ominous words.

I look back up to see him gazing at me sadly, and we stare at one another for a second or two, our faces only inches apart.  He averts his eyes a moment to shake off the heavy mood, and when he looks at me again, he gives me a cheeky smile.  I’m sure if he had two eyes, he’d wink at me.

“Are you still thirsty?” He asks.

I smile bashfully and nod my head.  “Yes, I am, but I…”

“No, no… Don’t worry about money,” he laughs, putting his gloved hand gently over mine to still it when I reach for my purse.  “I told you it’s my treat tonight.  Please.  I’d like to buy you another.”

I look at him a long moment, and he looks at me.  His gaze travels to my lips, down my throat and to my hair at my shoulder, where he lets his fingers trail idly, untangling a burr.  He’s seated very close to me and my heart is pounding in my chest so hard that I’m frightened for a moment he can hear it.  I don’t know how to rationalize this attraction to him… but doesn’t he seem to feel it, too?  Or am I projecting?  He looks as if he wants to say something, but after he frees the burr, he tosses it onto the table and shakes his head, chasing away the unvoiced thought from his mind.

“So… _Drinks_ ,” he says, meeting my gaze with a bright eye, “You’re thirsty, and frankly, so am I… Would you like the same as you’ve had already, or something else?”

“The same is fine,” I say bashfully.  “Thank you… this is very generous.”

“Nonsense,” he says softly, “It’s my pleasure.  It’s not often I—”

Suddenly he’s cut off by shouting voices.

“Julian!”

“Where’s Jules?”

“He promised to play tonight!”

“There he is, at the back!  Hey, Devorak, come up here and play!”

Spotted, he turns his head toward the shouting crowd, laughing.

“What do you want?” He calls over to the musicians laughingly.

“You promised to play tonight!”

The entire tavern erupts into cheers.  He must be quite a musician.

The Doctor laughs.  “Yes, I know, but… Can’t you see I’m entertaining a lady?”

“Come on, now—she’ll only like you more after she sees what those fingers can do!”

The crowd erupts into a frenzy of laughter and cajoling cheers.  Doctor Devorak is smiling reluctantly and casts a glance to me.  I start to laugh.

“Go on then,” I say, laughing heartily.  “Who knows, maybe I _will_ like you even better.”

He smiles rakishly.  “You’re on,” he says, and rises from his seat.  The crowd bellows in a victorious cheer as Doctor Devorak makes his way over to the corner where the musicians have set up a small, makeshift stage.

“I’ll play one tune,” he shouts over the continuing cheers.

The crowd laughs and the Doctor takes a small tambourine and puts it around his ankle, taking a few test stomps to make sure it stays in place.  He then turns his attention back to his musician friends, and one of them hands him a vielle.  The murmuring crowd goes quiet as he takes it up under his chin and drags the bow across the strings and scowls at the dissonant notes.

“You bastards could have at least tuned the fucking thing,” he says with a chuckle as he takes a moment to make adjustments to the strings and draws a few test-strokes of the bow against them.  When he is satisfied, he smiles wide and shouts at the crowd.

“Alright, you rapscallions,” he says, igniting a wave of rolling laughter.  “ _One_ song, and then I expect to be left in peace with my pretty company, understood?”

He casts a glance at me and smiles.  I blush and look at the floor until I feel his gaze has shifted away.  A few whoops and hollers from the crowd and the Doctor positions the vielle beneath his chin and grins mischievously.

“I expect some dancing to make this worth the interruption!” he adds, and then begins to play an ambling melody at a medium pace, and slowly picks up speed to a hearty dancing rhythm.  He keeps time by beating his heel against the floor, rattling the metal zills in the tambourine around his boot.  Half a dozen couples rise from their seats and begin to dance, and at the back, I’m clapping my hands in time with the music.

Not only does he play, he plays exceptionally.  His fingers are agile, nimbly flitting up and down the neck of the vielle as he bows elegantly across the strings. His movements are very precise, even with keeping his time by stomping his foot—it doesn’t throw him off a bit.  He is irresistibly captivating to watch.

He looks over to our table and smiles broadly at me.  Everything in his eyes suggests flirtation, and my attention is rapt on him as he shuts his eyes and plays, swallowed in the swell of the music.  The dancers keep excellent time and are truly enjoying themselves.  It’s obvious that the Doctor is very well liked here.

After a few riveting minutes of mesmerizing playing, the speed of the song slows back to its initial ambling pace, and he plays through the final refrain before taking a bow with a flourish.  The crowd cheers and cajoles him for another but he hands the instruments back to the musicians and shakes his head no, putting a hand up when his departure from the stage is met with protestation from the crowd.

“Come now, you know I’m here every night except on the nights when I’m not,” he says laughingly.  “You’ll get a chance to hear more soon, but let a man get back to his company, hmm?”

The musicians strike up a song that is not as skilful but still makes for pleasant listening as the Doctor looks up to me and mimes that he is going to get us our drinks.  I nod in response, still smiling wide, and he heads to the bar.  I huff through my nose, even more curious about him than before.

Shrill bickering erupts from the card-playing crones’ table. I turn to see spectators throwing their hands in the air, meanwhile, Doctor Devorak makes quick work at the bar.  On his way back, he is accosted at the card table, wrist snatched by a bony claw.  After a moment’s deliberation, he leans in, whispers to one of the crones, and taps a single card in her hand.  The card is played, throwing the entire crowd into chaos.  The Doctor ducks away just as someone douses him with their drink down the left side.  He’s chuckling when he returns to his seat.

“Oh dear, you would think I’d know better than to get involved with politics,” he laughs as he sets our drinks down.

“It looks like you know all the right moves,” I say with a flirtatious smile.

He cocks an eyebrow and he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket as he leans one arm on the table in a debonair pose.

“Well,” he chuckles, “Once you’ve made all the wrong ones… what can I say?  Some call me clever but I’m just…. Practiced in the weighing of options.  Options like _bad_ and _worse_. That’s life for you.”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing sidelong at the door, then begins mopping at his beer-drenched shoulder with the handkerchief.

“Or maybe I’m just paranoid,” he laughs, taking his seat again close beside me. “The barkeep says I’ve got more in common with the raven than anyone else.”

“The raven?”  I recall the skinny bird that followed us in from the alley.

“Ah, the rowdy one,” he laughs.  “He spends his time scouting for guards.  Obsessively, even.  He raises hell whenever they come by.  Even the sight of the Count’s crest drives him wild.  Oddly enough, I don’t think anyone really trained him to be that way.”

The Doctor laughs softly and his gaze falls back to me.

“Though I suppose we’re all trained to be that way,” he adds with a melancholy note in his voice.

The words have a mysterious gravity.  I feel as though he’s trying to tell me something more.

“Are you alright?”  I ask softly, instinctively reaching out a comforting hand and touching his forearm through his leather glove.  “Do you need help?”

His mouth twitches up into a smile as he glances down at my hand on his glove. 

“I’m in the company of a very beautiful woman and having a few drinks,” he says, softly, smiling.  “I couldn’t be better.”

Beautiful?  Surely no…. But there is nothing in the Doctor’s expression or mannerisms to suggest insincerity.  In fact, his gaze is one of such warmth I would suggest it were one of affection if we knew each other better.

“Thank you,” I say softly, struggling for the confidence to meet his gaze.  I just grin like an idiot for a long moment as he softly laughs. 

I look down at my hand on his arm for a moment and then finally I look up at him, gentle amusement in his eye, and smile.

“You play a hell of a fiddle,” I say after a pause.  “That was incredible.”

“Thank you,” he says, still patting at the wet patch on his shoulder.  “I took a few lessons as a teenager, but started to play more seriously when I was at sea.  It’s been a good hobby—it helps me think and it’s popular at parties…  But what I really want to know is this…”  He puts the handkerchief down on the table and smiles flirtatiously at me.  “Do you like me better now than you did before I played?”

I laugh heartily and nod.  “Yes, I liked you well before, but I like you even better now.”

He smiles wide and studies my face before his eye falls to my hand, still on his arm, my thumb tenderly running back and forth in an absent caress.  He lets the fingers of his free hand graze the back of mine experimentally, watching my reaction.  When I don’t pull away, he lays his palm down over it, still and gentle.  We gaze wordlessly into the other’s eyes for a moment.  My insides feel warm with the desire to draw closer, to touch him.  He squeezes my hand softly, and lets out a soft sigh.

“You’re sure we’ve never met before?” He asks, his gaze intense upon me.  “I feel… I feel uncommonly comfortable with you… It’s nice.”

I shake my head.  “No, we only met at the shop the other night.  But I feel like—”

Suddenly, the raven bursts in through a dusty window overhead, flying in loops with a guttural shriek.

The Doctor starts. “Oh, for crying ou—“

The bird beats itself against a string of bells, and the tavern erupts into chaos. 

The barkeep shouts to everyone, “Guards! Palace guards!”

Patrons claw their way out every door and window, playing cards tossed and fluttering in the air.  Julian scoops me broadly from my seat and rushes me out the back door, back into the alley.

The night is even colder now.  He casts a frantic glance up and down the alley before crowding me into the shadows. 

“Go back up that road,” he whispers frantically, pointing his intended direction, “Then take a left, a right, a s _harp_ right, and you’ll reach a round street.  It’s long, but it’s a straight shot and it’ll take you as far as the marketplace.  From there, you’ll be able to find your way, yes?”

Jittering, I nod.  He clasps my arms and leads me to the mouth of the alley.

“Up the road, left, right, sharp right, round street.  Good luck, Sevrina.  It was wonderful to officially meet you. I sincerely hope to see you again.”

With a quick kiss to my fingers, the Doctor lets me go and my eye darts up and down the street.  Oil-slick rats disappear into the gutters, and the apartments have their shutters locked.  I cast one glance to the alley, but the Doctor is already gone.  And so is my breath. 

In the blink of an eye, the street has fallen silent as the grave and I am the only living thing in sight.  Head spinning, I dash up the road from whence I came.

Left, then right.  Spectral alley cats scatter to the shadows as I whip past.  The stone path is broken and winding, narrower and narrower until I reach a very sharp right that leads to a round, open street.  This must be the one.  I smile weakly, then heave with exhaustion, and slow my pace to a jog. 

Still, my mind races.  I’ve always been wary of the palace guards, but never feared them like this.  Even if this road takes me to the shop, even if I’m not spotted along the way, there’s a good chance I’ll find them waiting there for me.

I’m not watching my footing, and I trip over the knees of a vagrant sitting unseen in the shadows.  Helpless to stop myself, I collapse with him in an ungainly pile.

By some miracle, the vagrant below me is of a very sturdy build.  He also sports a spotless white costume…

A rabbit.

“Oh, Gods,” I exclaim, breathless.  I don’t believe it.  And by the look he gives me, caged under my lesser weight, he doesn’t believe it, either.

Why—No— _How_ did he find me?  Or was it I who found him?  The gaping guard below me doesn’t seem to know, either.  Across the street, the door of a stationary carriage swings open.  And Portia emerges from within.  She jolts at the sight of me.

“Fuck me,” she murmurs.

I hear the Countess’ voice.  “What?  What was that sound?”

The Countess peeks out of the carriage, and her lovely stare falls on me.  She blinks at a hummingbird’s speed, so completely aghast she doesn’t even try to maintain her usual poise and composure.

“Sevrina!  Where on earth did you come from?”

“She came from that way,” Portia gestures. 

The guard manages to disentangle our limbs quickly and effectively.  I get to my feet, but I’m too stunned to do much else.

I just hope with all my heart that the Doctor ran in the opposite direction…

“Uncanny,” The Countess exhales, laughing with unguarded surprise, “Why… we’ve only just arrived…  I agonised over choosing the right spot to hide, and we had finally, _finally_ chosen this one… Ludo, take the reins, we will be returning early.”

The guard shifts to the front of the carriage, eyeing me in wonder.  Meanwhile, Portia puts an arm around my back and hustles me inside.

Dazed, I settle tentatively in to the plush interior.  The Countess observes me with obvious delight.

“It is extraordinarily rare that anyone should exceed my expectations, Sevrina,” she chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief as she stares at me.  “I apologize for what must have been a most tedious trial to a magician of your prowess.”

The Countess pulls a silken pouch from her waist and passes it graciously to me.  My heartbeat hastens as I pull the drawstring.  The silk falls away to reveal the Emperor card. I can almost feel the deck in my bag react to its presence.

“I can only wonder,” The Countess muses, “If you are the apprentice, how proud the master must be.”

Though I’ve somehow won her game, it is she who eyes me like a prize.  I swallow, throat dry.

Staring down at the Emperor I can’t help but feel as if he and the other Arcana are making sport of me.

“Do take the time to rest,” The Countess says dulcetly, “It will be a while yet before we arrive.  A feast awaits you, and a hot bath, if you will agree to it.”

Absently, I nod.  Thoughts of leaving seem foolish now.  The reality of the situation lurches through me—Fate has decided for me.  This business with the Countess… we were fated to meet, and fated to see this through.  So why does my heart leap joyfully at the thought of the man she wants me to hunt?

The carriage sways into action, and with sharp, echoing hoof beats, we depart from the gloomy streets.  I place the Emperor card in my hip bag with the rest of the deck, then wrap my arms around myself and shiver.  The Countess hands me a shawl.  I thank her softly and I wrap up in it like a blanket, and then sink back into the seat and close my eyes.

 

The palace looms over the carriage as we approach, a white monolith against the twinkling night sky.  At some point, I dozed off, the gentle sway of the carriage too seductive for my exhausted mind.  I didn’t sleep long enough to dream, and I awaken to comfortable silence.  The Countess is turned toward the window with a serene smile.

As soon as we disembark from the carriage, I’m tightly flanked on both sides by two female servants I’ve not met, and I’m led through the halls and past my guest quarters to a bathing chamber.  I suppose the Countess thinks this is pampering.  There’s no escaping my escorts.  I can’t muster the energy to protest as they quickly strip me and usher me into a large marble bath. It all happens so fast I don’t have time to try and hide my scars, but once left alone, I sink into the hot, perfumed water with a fluttery groan and let the day’s tension melt away from me. 

I close my eyes and think of Doctor Devorak.  I think of his face illuminated by the flickering light of the tavern, the laughter in his eyes, the smile on his lips, his lips on my fingers, his smouldering gaze.  I imagine what is must be like for his lips to touch my own.  I let go in my imagination and dream him up in the bath here with me, laying hot kisses over my mouth as his long fingers make some mischief for us. 

I find my lips curling into an easy smile at the vision as I lowly hum to myself the tune he played on the vielle, and I think of his rakish grin, his flirtation, the comfortable, inexplicable familiarity between us. I wash languidly, imagining his hands, hardly opening my eyes to keep hold of the vision of the Doctor raising my fingers to his lips, replaying over and over in my mind the sound him sighing my name blissfully to himself, and I wonder how it might sound for him to whisper it between laboured, passionate breaths...

I don’t notice Portia until she clears her throat, waiting expectantly in the doorway—Thank Gods I hadn’t yet let my hands wander between my legs as I was planning!  A glittery bundle rests in her arms, shimmering hues of burnt sienna and rich tyrian purple.

“Milady is waiting for you in the dining room,” she explains, trying not to look at the scars all down my back, which I’m sure she’s noticed.  “She’d like you to wear these.”

Portia smiles at me sadly. She’s definitely seen the scars, but she’s trying to pretend she didn’t.  I’m content to let it rest at that.  She sets out the outfit on a tiled bench against the far wall, and then slips out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the softly sloshing water.  I close my eyes one last time and replay in my mind the moment I fell into the Doctor’s arms this evening….  I hope he found somewhere safe to hide.

I exit the bath and pad across the luxurious bathroom to the bench, leaving a small river in my wake. This ensemble is woven of heavier silk than the last, which appears to have been whisked away.  I run my hands over the smooth grain, then hold it up to the light.  Having no other options, I slide the clothing on.  I’m sure it isn’t sheer, but it’s a wide neckline… I’ll have to leave my hair down…

When I exit the bathing chamber, Portia is waiting outside, fingers tapping out a jaunty rhythm against the wall.

“So, you took quite a little trip into town today,” she winks. “And that smile on your face in the bath was positively lovesick—did you see an old flame?”

My vulnerable expression makes her snort with laughter.  She places a hand on my back and leads me briskly toward the dining hall, and faint echoes of music. 

The grand doors swing open as we arrive to reveal an expansive feast, piled high upon the long table.  I’m immediately overwhelmed by the sumptuous smells and sights of the food before me.  Everything is richly seasoned with Vesuvian and Moldovan spices.  I can recognize the scent of saffron wafting toward me.

“Why, if it isn’t my champion of the hour!” The Countess announces, “Fresh from the bath.  Hello, Sevrina.”

A servant seats me and fills my glass with a pale rose beverage as the Countess raises a toast.

“To Sevrina, whose talents have exceeded my highest expectations.  Let us be strangers no longer—May this be the beginning of a valuable friendship.  I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership with you.  I’m sure you will not disappoint.”

She looks me in the eyes and then drains her glass in one motion, setting it down gently when she’s done.  I take a sip of the rosy drink.  The delicate floral taste reminds me of the Countess’ perfume.

“Ah, lest we forget,” the Countess mutters.  “Bludmilla, Ludovico.”

She casts her gaze sidelong, toward the kitchen door.  Moments later, two figures slink sheepishly into the dining hall.  The guards.  The rabbit and the deer.  Freshly bathed and divested of their animal costumes.  They shift nervously, armour jostling as they adjust their posture and straighten expectantly for orders.

“For being such admirable sports,” The Countess says, “I would forgive their trespasses, but the slight was against you, Sevrina.  Shall we invite them to join us at the table tonight or shall I send them away?”

“They can stay,” I say.

The guards look at each other in confusion, frozen in place.  Neither dares to move.  The Countess clears her throat, and they promptly clamber to the furthest seats at the end of the table.  They seem startled when servants set plates in front of them, and remain nervously quiet.

The Countess’s lips twitch up slightly as she watches me, before turning to the guards.

“They have worked hard today, haven’t they?”  She says warmly.  “Very well, Bludmilla, Ludovico, behave.”

They nod in unison and murmur to each other as the Countess’ attention turns back to me.

“You have a generous spirit, Sevrina,” she smiles.  “A rarity in this town.  Tomorrow, we shall dine together with my courtiers.  They are most eager to make your acquaintance.  I have no doubt they will find you absolutely charming.  They will want to know everything about you, but choose wisely what you wish to tell.  I will be informing them of the Masquerade as well.  I imagine they will be ecstatic.”

I nod slowly, chewing and swallowing hard.  The ways of the court are foreign to me, but the Countess will be there.  No doubt she will ensure that my premier goes smoothly.  I can trust, at the very least, that she won’t allow me to be too much of an embarrassment. 

“Portia and a retinue of our loudest servants will be going to town tomorrow to make the announcement,” the Countess continues.  “Once the townspeople hear, word will spread on its own.  And then it shall be out of our hands… We must ensure there is a sufficient audience for our final spectacle.  This is of utmost importance.”

The Countess’ gaze narrows, as if she is peering into an unfavourable horizon.

“When the Doctor hangs,” she clarifies, “He will hang for all who wish to see.”

I think of the Doctor, bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the tavern, swinging from the gallows.  I don’t understand why just yet, but I can’t bear the thought.  My heart grows cold at the image, but I’m careful not to let it show on my face.

“But those are tomorrow’s matters,” the Countess sighs, “Tonight, Sevrina, I have questions.”

“Questions, Countess?”

I’m startled by the sudden attention.  She is watching me so carefully.

“Yes, I wish to become familiar with you,” she says with a smile.  “After all, we will be working very closely.”

I’m caught a little off guard, but quickly recover.  I didn’t expect her to have any interest in who I was.  She asks me simple questions.  How do I enjoy the town, my daily goings on, my favourite thing to eat.  I ask her questions in turn and learn than her favourite food is spiced swordfish.

“Have you ever had it, Sevrina?” she asks keenly, “It’s delicious.”

“No, I don’t think I have,” I reply with a shake to my head.

“In Prakra, it’s a summer dish.  I would hardly suffer a warm night without it,” she says with a laugh.

Prakra.  A vast empire in the north.  The Countess’ home, though I thought that was only a rumour.  I get the feeling she misses it there.

“The kitchen does try to humour my requests,” she chuckles, “But alas they never seem to spice it quite right.”

She looks back to me with a wry smile and lifts her drink to her lips once more. 

“I’m quite happy enjoying our talk, Sevrina, but I admit I don’t savour the audience.”

She casts her gaze about the dining room before rising slowly.

“I wonder if you would like to join me on the veranda for a nightcap?”  She says, looking down at me.  A soft smile tugs at her lips.  I flush under her scrutiny.  “Just the two of us,” she clarifies, “And we can continue to get to know one another.”

She holds her hand out to me, waiting expectantly.  I take it in trepidation.  She grips it warmly and firmly, looking pleased as we head out to the veranda.

A cool night breeze greets us.  There is a metal firepit near the seats with a hot, smokeless flame burning in it, warming the space.   The star-filled sky is bright and vast overhead.  It feels as if I can see the stars better out here, though I know they’re just as clear in town.

The Countess waves towards the servants gathered on either side on a tiny table near the balcony.

“Leave us,” she orders softly.

They all scurry away into the woodwork, leaving us alone.

“Have a seat,” she says kindly, “After your performance today, I think we’ll be working quite closely form now on.”

I settle down into a plush chair at her order, shifting a little to get comfortable.  She picks up a crystal decanter filled with a pale liquid, and pours us each a glass.  My cheeks flush at being served by the Countess, but I accept the bell-shaped goblet and thank her graciously.

“Elderflower cordial,” she says with a smile, “One of my favourites.”

There’s a silence, not quite comfortable, until the Countess turns her gaze from the fire to me, and gives me a warm smile. Somehow, she has a way of making me feel at ease and nervous at the same time.  In town, there are whispers that the Countess is a tyrant, but the woman in front of me seems, although intimidating, at least genuine, kind and with a heart that wants to understand me.

“I thought perhaps you’d speak more freely with me if our surroundings were more private,” she says with a smile, “I apologize if my manner here is a bit forward, and you may absolutely refuse to answer anything I might ask if you feel it is too invasive...  I assure you I mean no harm, it is just that I would like very much if we could be friends, and I want to know about you.”

“I would like that, too, Countess,” I reply with a smile.  “I will certainly be as open as I am able to be.”

She smiles welcomingly.

“Tell me, then, Sevrina, do you have family here in Vesuvia?”

I shake my head.  “No, Countess, I have no family…  My master, Asra—he is as close to family as I have.  We aren’t related by blood, but he is my Brother.”

“Oh, your _brother_ ,” she says, nodding her head understandingly.  “The people in town talk of your closeness—I’d thought perhaps he was your lover.”

I pull a face and the Countess laughs unreservedly.

“Yes, Sevrina, I understand,” she chortles, “That face says he is very much so _family_ to you!”

We both laugh together and then she narrows her eyes in a teasing expression.

“Not him, then, Sevrina, but tell me—Do you have a lover?”

I shake my head again, feeling my cheeks flush.  “No, Countess, I spend most of my time alone.”

She studies me with kind eyes as she sips her drink.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but the way you say that strikes me as being an admission of loneliness.”

I look at my hands in my lap and manage a small nod. 

“It is,” I say softly. “But it’s difficult for me… I suffered some sort of accident three years ago, and when I awakened, I had no memories… When I try to chase those memories, I’m met with failure and pain.  I don’t know what makes me shut myself off to the world—it could be either fear or sadness…  And I don’t know why I’m speaking about it so freely to you, except that… I feel I can trust you not to use it to hurt me, Countess.”

The Countess refills my drink with a sad smile.

“My dear, I’m very sorry if I’ve asked you a painful question,” she says softly.  “But I thank you for trusting me with such candour.  It is an honour to be held in such a regard.” 

She reaches over and squeezes my hand in an effort to lift the heaviness in the air, and I smile at her.

“Tell me, Sevrina,” she says, “Why did you come to the palace?  Why agree to help me?”

“You asked me,” I say simply.

“Yes, I did. But you could have refused me easily.”  One of her eyebrows quirks up as she appraises me.  After a moment, she takes another sip of cordial.  “Are you always so obedient, Sevrina?” she asks.

“Obedient?” I laugh.  “I only want to help people.  I want to do right for others, and you asked me for help.”

Her penetrating gaze rakes over me, curiosity dancing in her eyes. Eventually she smiles.

“I thank the Gods for crossing our paths,” she says with a laugh.  “Now, my friend, do you have any more questions for me?  I would like it if you felt you could speak freely in my presence.”

I have a lot of questions for the Countess, but if I asked them all now, I worry we would never leave the veranda.  For now, I just need to know…

“Why are you doing this?”

The Countess blinks and can’t supress a laugh.  “What a… vague question.  What, exactly, do you mean by _this_?”

“Well, the murder investigation,” I ask cautiously.  “The Count has been dead for years, so why now?

The Countess nods her head slowly.  “You’re quite right, Sevrina.  In fact, I imagine most of the city has forgotten about it.  But I have not forgotten.  Vesuvia is in dire need of help.  Order needs to be restored.  And I am in the unique position to restore it.  That does not mean that I have interest in becoming a tyrant, however.  I intend to lead by example, not fear.  I must show the city I’m capable, and justice for the Doctor’s crimes will serve as a benchmark in the restoration of Vesuvia.”

She pauses.  I see sadness and a little fear flit across her features.

“I have so many plans for Vesuvia,” she says, “I want to see this city flourish.  Perhaps you’ll be able to help me with those plans, Sevrina.  I could use more competent people on my side.”

“I hope that I can help,” I say sincerely, and then a yawn catches me by surprise.

She smiles.  “How sweet you are, Sevrina….I know you have had a very long day.  I won’t keep you from your bed any longer.”

The Countess pauses, and squeezes my hand again.

“Thank you for your hard work, today.  It seems my dreams did not lead me astray.  I am very grateful.”

Then she smiles and picks up a little silver bell, its handle carved into the shape of a swan’s neck.  She rings it.  The door to the veranda opens immediately as Portia bustles in.

“You rang, Milady?”

“I did, my Dear.  Please show Sevrina to her quarters.”

“Of course, Milady.”

I rise to my feet and wish The Countess a good night before following Portia away from the veranda.  I can almost swear I see The Countess wink at her as I leave, looking pleased.

The walk back to the guest room is uneventful.  Mercedes and Melchior are nowhere to be seen.  Our footsteps echo in the empty halls.  Portia walks cheerfully behind me.

“Things are a lot more interesting around here since you came,” she says happily.  “Did you see Bludmila and Ludovico’s faces when they were summoned to dinner?  Oh my Gods, I thought Ludo would die on the spot.  He’s always had a nervous constitution.”

She talks about the guards as if they’re old friends.  I start to wonder how well she knows the servants here.

“Do you spend a lot of time with the other servants?” I ask.

“We work together pretty closely,” she explains.  “It’s my job to know who and what is happening in the palace.”

She winks conspiratorially at me, and then starts to walk again, her hair swaying with the bounce in her step.  We arrive at the door to my guest room.  She waits expectantly for me to enter.  It seems servants came during the day to tidy up.  They’ve placed a fresh pitcher of water on the table.  Incense burns by the window, filling the room with hazy swirls of wood and spice.

Portia looks at me as if she’s dying to ask me a question, but it falters before it can escape her lips.  She smooths her hands over papers on my desk.  I recognise them as the ones I took from the Doctor’s desk.

“What happens if I catch the Doctor?” I ask cautiously.  “Will he have a trial?”

Portia shakes her head with an expression I can’t read.

“No.  Milady is certain of is guilt.  The execution will continue as scheduled.”

“You seem concerned,” I whisper.

“Concerned?” she says, wide-eyed, “Me?  Well.. I don’t know… It’s just… He’s not the only suspect, right?”  She lowers her tone so that she’s sure only I can hear her.  “I know many people loved the Count, but… Just between you and me, I think he had a lot of enemies, too.”

This catches my attention.  “Enemies?”  I whisper.  “Who?”

Portia shakes her head and smooths her skirt with her hands.

“I wasn’t employed at the palace when it happened,” she says helplessly. “I’ve only heard rumours of what went on that night.  Just… keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious, alright?”

I nod my head.  “Of course I will.”

A yawn of exhaustion suddenly overtakes me.  Portia puts a friendly hand on my shoulder.”

“I think you’d better get some sleep,” she says with a smile.  “Sevrina, I’m really excited you’re here—I think we’re going to be great friends.”

I smile back to her.  “I think so too, Portia.”

“Oh!” she gasps.  “I almost forgot—Milady wants you to join us in town tomorrow for the announcement.  Now get some rest—I will see you in the morning, Sevrina.”

I smile.  “Thank you, Portia.  Goodnight.”

Portia smiles, squeezes my shoulder, and the leaves me alone in my room with my thoughts.


	6. The Hierophant

The wagon jolts beneath me, bouncing on the uneven road and lurching from side to side.  I’m headed to town with Portia, to make the announcement of the coming Masquerade.  The sun is just rising when we arrive at the market.

“Everybody, listen here,” Portia commands.

The chattering servants, loaded with baskets, fall silent and congregate around her.

“Twelve o’clock—noon, We’ll be making the announcement in the city square.  I expect that you’ll all be there.  Until then, you all know your errands—talk to me if you don’t.”

Portia turns to me with a smile.

“As for you, Sevrina, I thought you’d like to check on your shop.”

Her words set off a cascade of emotions, the first being relief.  I would like very much to check on my shop.  I nod and smile.

“I’ll try to find you,” she says, “But if I don’t, try to be back to the square by noon?”

I smile.  “Of course, Portia.”

The servants depart, spreading out into the marketplace.  I head in the direction opposite, straight for the shop.  My very own oasis.  Even in the misty, overcast light, it seems to glow.  My shop.  Home.

Hopping up the steps, I press my palm to the door and release the sealing spell.  Hastily, I turn the first two locks, fumbling and dropping my keys before I can get to the third.

When I dip to retrieve them, I spot a small leather pouch resting on the stoop.  It is rough in make, and heavy with energy.  Someone left this for me… picking the knot, I open the pouch.

Inside is a magic mixture.  Herbs, bark, resin and incense. I pour a little into my palm and sniff.  Myrrh is the strongest, but there are scents of sage and marrow root.  This is a mixture for protection.

I cast a glance to either side of the street, quiet under the cloudy sky.  There is no one nearby.  I fetch my keys and turn the third lock.

Just as I lean on the door, it swings open and I nearly collapse right into the arms of the last person I expected to see.

Doctor Devorak.

The sight of him freezes me in my tracks, the pouch dropping from my nerveless fingers.  I struggle to speak, but he beats me to it.

“Well, hello, there—fancy seeing you here.”

I stare at him dumbly.

“Doctor Devorak?”

He smirks.  “No need for formality, my Dear.  Call me Julian.”

I blink and huff out an angry breath.  “Why are you here?”

“Sevrina, I… ah,” he stammers, “I was in the neighbourhood, and I thought I’d check if you’d gotten home alright.  And here you are, getting home alright!  Marvellous, I’ll stop wringing my hands.”

 I know he’s not being completely honest… I consider calling for a guard and immediately dismiss the thought.  This is the second time he’s been here, and he is a fugitive.  Either way, I have questions for him.

I’m not afraid, and I fix him with a hard gaze.

“How do you keep getting in?” I say, trying to pull him out of the direct doorway.  “I know I locked up after the first time, so you’ve ether broken in, or…”

“Or I’ve got a key?” he finishes.  With a click of his tongue and a ragged sigh, he produces a little key from his coat pocket.  My mouth falls open in shock.

“Here,” he says, taking my hand and folding the key into my fingers, “If it makes any difference, you can take it.  I won’t be using it again.  That’s….that’s a promise.”

He watches patiently as I examine they key and compare it to my others.  It lines up perfectly with my key to the back room.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, aghast, my eyes narrowing.

“I’ve made house calls here before—after hours,” he explains.  “I don’t remember the exact circumstances, but I was given the key.  If I could remember why or from whom I would tell you.”

My eyebrows shoot upward.  House calls here?  Was Asra ever that ill?  If he had been, would he have told me?

I frown, pocketing the key and giving the Doctor a wary look.

“Oh, Gods, I hope you don’t think I’m a _thief_.” He says, putting his hands up in a submissive gesture, “I’m a lot of unsavoury things, Sevrina, but I’m not a thief.”

My eyes narrow and the Doctor struggles to stand tall under my gaze. Then, to my surprise, he holds up a hand in revelation, then sloughs off his cloak and jacket and starts to open his shirt.  He throws it open with a flutter, arms outstretched, palm-up in submission.

“Search me,” he offers, “And if you find anything of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks.”

I don’t move at first, I just stare at him, wondering why my heart is fluttering down in my stomach again.  I get the feeling he _is_ telling the truth—otherwise, I very much doubt he would volunteer this—and I also get the feeling he wants me to trust he isn’t a thief.

“Go ahead, search until you’re satisfied,” he says seriously, lowering his eye and presenting himself for inspection. “Let me know how I can be more accommodating, and I’ll be happy to oblige.”

I can’t repress a flush to my features.  He’s serious.  And he’s insistent, and it makes me want to touch him...

“Alright, I will,” I say, rising to his challenge.  From the stunned look on his face, he didn’t expect me to take him up on it.  And then his surprised expression melts into a playful one.

“You’re not only beautiful, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he says in a low, seductive tone.  “Well then, don’t be shy—I’ve nothing to hide.  I promise I’ll be good… unless, of course, you don’t want me to be.”

He grins mischievously as my eyes widen at his suggestive comment.  Somewhat annoyed at his cheek, I narrow my gaze and step forward defiantly, determined to take charge of the situation.  My eyes roam over his body, unsure of where to begin, and I heave a sigh, raising and dropping my hands a few times before I commit to gingerly running my palms down one of his arms.  There is barely a sliver of space between us, we are standing so closely.  I try to repress the feelings of desire that are flooding me now that I’m close enough to smell his skin… It’s taking every ounce of will I have to remember that I have to stay on task.  He watches me hotly and I’m trying to steady my hands that are on the verge of trembling.  The leather of his glove creaks as he flexes the lean muscle of his arm under my touch.

“You have lovely hands,” he teases.  “I won’t mind if you squeeze a little harder.”

I look up to his face to see his gorgeous lips curling into a mischievous grin, his smile broadening when I let out a sharp sigh—nearly a surprised laugh—at his boldness.

True to his brazen words, he smiles wide when I press more firmly on his other arm, but he doesn’t protest.

“Look at you,” he says in a low, throaty whisper, “I haven’t seen you up close in broad daylight before.  You truly are a splendid beauty… And you’re stronger than I realised… Gods, I’d love to get closer…”

He reaches for me, clever fingers wrapping around my wrist and tugging, trying to close the last inch of space between our bodies.

“Please, stop moving,” I whisper shakily, not remotely meaning my protest.  Every part of my insides is screaming with inexplicable longing for him to draw me into his arms, to draw me closer.  He pauses mid motion, tilting his head curiously.

“You’re so polite,” he chuckles lowly, letting go, “You can take more liberties with me, you know.  I can take a little rough handling—you won’t break me... though, it could be fun if you tried.”

Why does he keep saying these things?  Is he mocking me or is there truth behind the joking?  His tone is provocative, and the look in his eye is eager.  I step back a moment to catch my breath and he blinks quizzically at me.

“Done so soon?” he mutters in a disappointed tone. “Why, you’ve only just started.  You’ve not even checked my other side yet.”

He’s baiting me, and good Gods, it’s working.  But he’s right.  I circle behind him, and he twists around to watch me, not letting me out of his sight.  His eye is bright with interest.  My cheeks are warm under his shameless stare.

“I had no idea you were so hands-on,” he teases.  “How very daring of you.  Aren’t you afraid someone will see?”

“Did I say you could move?” I assert, my nerves fluttering.

“I, ah… no you didn’t.”

“Then turn back around, Doctor.”

He complies without hesitation.  I can see the tips of his ears flush.  Interesting.

“Please, I insist, call me Julian.”

A fine tremor goes through him when I slide my palms down his back.  It’s delicious but I manage to collect myself.

“Besides,” I whisper, “Shouldn’t y _ou_ be the one afraid of being seen?”

He laughs softly.  “Well, I suppose that’s true.”

I run my hands over his hips, checking his pockets, and stop when I feel an unexpected hard edge.

“Ah, that, don’t worry about that,” he mumbles as I pull a sheathed knife from his pocket.   He chuckles.  “But I _am_ happy to see you.”

He’s incorrigible, but I can feel him nervously shifting his weight.  I walk back around to his front, barely an inch between us, trailing one hand over his hip.  He sways in my direction, but holds himself still with a visible effort.  I linger a moment, my gaze locked with his, before he speaks.

“Are you…are you done?” he whispers hoarsely.  His cheeks, throat and upper chest are flushed pink.  Small freckles show in his complexion when he’s blushing that can’t be seen otherwise.  There is no doubt in me now that his attraction to me is real and not just a tease used to distract me.

“Almost,” I sigh, running my hands slowly over his shoulders.  “You’d better tell me what you were really looking for.”

He smiles, closes his eye and exhales a shaky breath when I slide my hands under his open shirt.  He seems to be enjoying the touch.  His skin is smooth, a little tawny hair across his chest.  I wonder to myself how he would react if my hands searched him lower down, but dare not try it.  His face is only inches from mine, now, and when he opens his eye to watch me again, his gaze is hypnotic.

“My Gods,” he sighs huskily.  “You’re very persistent, aren’t you?  And thorough…”

“Answer the question, Doctor,” I breathe shakily, trying to hold on to my authority.  The closeness of our proximity is making my insides feel absolutely molten and I can’t stop thinking about kissing his throat...

“Please, I’m _begging_ you,” he breathes with feeling, “Call me Julian.”

I pause for a moment and then, as I stare at his slightly parted lips, I say his name.  “Julian.”

“Oh, yes,” he heaves, “That’s better, isn’t it?” His lips twitch up into a smile and I lock my gaze with his.

“Yes,” I say throatily, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine.  “ _Julian_ does have a nice movement to it, doesn’t it…. I really enjoy the way it _rolls on the tongue_.”

Julian’s throat bobs when he swallows hard, eye wide, and he lets out a slow, shaky sigh.  I have a feeling he isn’t caught speechless like this very often. 

“What were you looking for, _Julian_?” I whisper, realizing that I’m now caressing his skin far more than I’m actually searching him.

“I… I was looking for answers,” He says lowly, “Answers to questions that are torturing me.  Answers your master knows… I’m missing a lot of memories, you see… I’m trying to regain them so I can know what I’ve done… I became impatient waiting for him to return and came here to try and find the answers myself…”

I nod.  The feeling is all too easy for me to understand.

“But I also wanted to see that you were safe after last night,” he continues breathlessly, “I was hoping you’d be here, but when you didn’t answer my knocking, I let myself in.  I didn’t find anything…. And now here you are, to my most profound delight.…”

Oh Gods, I wish he’d kiss me….

My hands slide lightly over his waist and he squirms.

“Please, I’m terribly ticklish,” he laughs, wriggling away from my touch.

“Alright, I’m sorry… I’ll be firmer,” I say softly, staying my hands on his sides soundly.  It ignites that impish look in his eye again.  I can’t help my lips curling into a flirtatious smile.

“Oh, I wish you would,” he mutters lowly.

“Stand still.”

He bites his lip and flushes again under my stare. I hold my hands at his waist again, but don’t search further.  I can’t stop staring into his eye.  I feel his words spinning in my head, and I am entranced by his nearness.

“About looking for answers,” I whisper, “I believe you.”

“You do?”

I nod.  “Yes.”

He slowly reaches a gloved hand up to the side of my face, as if he is afraid to move too quickly and startle me.

“Please forgive me for breaking in,” he whispers. “I wouldn’t have done so if I wasn’t desperate.”

“I forgive you,” I breathe, barely even a whisper as his thumb softly moves back and forth across my cheek.

“Thank you,” He sighs, his gaze flitting all over my face.  His expression is serious, melancholy. “I would just hate to disappoint you.”

We stand this way, staring at one another in silence for a long, aching moment until he remembers himself and steps away from me, gaze still intense, and then moves to retrieve his overcoat with a showy flourish and slips it back on.

“I’m sure you have things to do,” he says awkwardly, as he straightens his clothes.  “Yes…  I’m sure you have things to do, so I’ll just be getting out of your way…”

He takes a wide step, contorting his long form around me to pass toward the door.

“Wait,” I stammer. “Julian, I…”

“Take care now,” he cuts me off, taking my hand and raising my fingers to his lips gallantly. “I truly hope I didn’t disturb your day… Though, seeing you again, my Dear, has utterly made mine.  Now, if the Powers That Be should ever entangle us again—and I sincerely hope that they do—please continue to call me Julian.  Hearing your voice say my name gives me tremendous joy.”

He raises my fingers to his lips once more, his eye locked with mine, and lets his mouth press up against my knuckles several times.  Once he draws back, his broad grin takes only a second to fade before shock overtakes his features.  Bristling at the nape, I look carefully over my shoulder.

Portia.  She must have come to find me, but pays me no attention at all.  All of her focus, the suspended disbelief in her wide eyes, is on the man beside me.  When she speaks, the quiet word that escapes her sounds different—an unused voice from the depths of her heart.

“Ilya?”

The utterance of that name causes a pain to stab intensely in my head.  I press hard at my temples and will it to subside so that I can think and respond to what’s happening to Julian.

Portia stands frozen for a moment, and then stumbles forward and runs to the steps.  I back into the wall as she throws herself at the Doctor, pushing him back into my shop with a force that surprises me.

“Ilya, is that really you?”

Her shaking hands come to either side of his face.  His eye glistens with the threat of a tear, I notice in wonder, my heart pounding like a drum.

“It’s me,” he whispers, stunned.

“You… You…”  Portia stammers as her face breaks into tears, “You bastard!  What are you doing here?  Out in the open!  Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Her fingers curl, tugging at his ears and drawing a shameful wince.

“You’ve grown up strong, Pasha,” he murmurs.  “I’m… sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”

Portia is sobbing inconsolably.

“Oh, I’ll show you sorry!  You unbelievable…. Sevrina!”

Spotted, I can only offer Portia a curious look.  She releases Julian’s ears, tugging him toward the door.

“I…I’ll catch up with you later!” she says, and without further ado, she hauls the floundering Doctor away to an alley nearby, telling him what sounds like a few home truths in Nevivonian, leaving me to ponder.

Didn’t they seem like family?

I watch until they are out of sight, then step back and shut the door and head straight for the back room.  I sink into a seat and run my fingers through my hair, then press my lips to my knuckles, trying to catch the ghost of his kisses…

I take some time to settle my heartbeat.  I could feel his breath on me, I could smell the scent of his skin, we were so close… What made it feel so right?  What feels so familiar and welcoming about him?  Why am I so tempted, so entranced?  Why, more than anything, do I wish he was still here with me, drawing me closer?

What if the answer is in my missing memories?

If only Asra were here… he might know some way of helping me.  But how in the world can I speak to him?  He’s somewhere I can’t go.  And I don’t know when he will be back.

A short while later, my curiosity has concocted a theory.

The Countess believes a possession of Julian’s is all I need to find him.  Perhaps… Perhaps a possession of Asra’s will be enough to call him to me.  I could go to the pool at the fountain again, in the palace gardens.  If I bring something with meaning to him…

For some time I linger over his possessions, his clothing and magical relics, comforted by his smoky scent.

But it’s the strangest thing.  I try to feel it out but none of Asra’s things carry even a trace of is sparkling magic.

Before I know it, the sun is high in the sky.  A distant clock tolls the hour, shocking me to my feet.  The announcement!

I can already hear a crowd roaring in the distance.  Biting my lip in vexation, I abandon my venture and close up shop, and run as fast as I can to the city square.

Portia is petite, but she can project her voice exceptionally well.   She is standing on the back of the wagon, a few heads higher than the crowd, and calling passers-by nearer to her to hear her announcement.  She seems to have collected herself, and looks perfectly normal, no sign of the tears and upset I was witness to an hour ago.  I make it back to the wagon breathless, just in time to hear the announcement made.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” She calls out after drawing a sizeable crowd, “This is an announcement from the palace of Countess Nadia Satrinava!”

The square is densely packed with people now, smaller folks and latecomers circling the perimeter for a better view.

“On the eve of the passing of your most glorious Count Lucio, the Countess will open the palace gates.  All are invited—not to mourn, but to celebrate the spirit of the dearly departed Count with a fantastic Masquerade!”

A ripple of loud excitement passes through the crowd.  At its edge, I catch a familiar scent.  I break away from the wagon party deftly to follow it.  Myrrh.  The leather pouch, dropped on my shop’s doorstep, comes to mind.  And then I come upon a mysterious figure, monstrous in size.  His eyes are shadowed under a hood and heavy brow.  Though the excitement of the crowd is growing, the figure looks more like a harbinger of despair.

“It will be a Masquerade like no other before!”  Portia continues, “Spread the word, tell your friends!  You won’t want to miss this!”

As the crowd erupts in chatter, the massive stranger moves down a side street.  I follow him.  His lumbering pace is easy to match.  I catch up halfway down the street.

“Wait!” I call to him, “Where are you going?”

He stops, and turns slowly, as if he dreads the sight of me.  A voice like thunder rumbles from under his furs.

“Blindly to the slaughter,” he says stonily.  “Just like the rest of you.”

“What do you mean?”  I say, my confusion peaking, “Please speak plainly.”

“It doesn’t matter what I say,” he says.  “My words don’t last.  They never do.”

He shuffles away in silence.

My thoughts race… if he left the protection spell at the shop, did Asra send him?

“Wait!”  I cry out.  “Please.  Who are you?”

My question falls on deaf ears.  I scramble to catch up with him before his hulking figure can disappear around the corner. 

He stops on the stairs, his broad back to me.

“What are you doing?”  I ask.

With a start, he turns around so quickly that his tattered hood falls back.  Was he planning to wait there until I left?

Hesitantly, I step forward.  The huge stranger turns, broad shoulders nearly scraping the walls, and shuffles away from me.  Curiosity compels me to follow.

When I emerge into the bustling market, my heart sinks.  The stranger could easily disappear in this crowd, but I manage to spot him skirting around the edges of the market, avoiding the crowd.  He stops at a wooden pole holding up a canopy, but it’s far too narrow to hide behind.

As soon as I approach, he lumbers away again.  He pauses behind an apple cart, and although it is piled high with fruit, he towers over it.  Is he trying to hide from me?

This time when I approach, he shuffles behind a stray dog, then immediately seems to understand the futility of the gesture. The dog trots off.

“Go away,” he growls low.

“I just want to ask you something,” I say sheepishly.

His stormy green eyes dart from side to side.  He could bolt at any moment.

“Are you alright?”

His heavy brow knits in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he bites.

“Do you need help?  Can I help you?”

“You can leave.”  He asserts.

Before I do, I just want to know…

“Do you know Asra?”

The stranger stops dead, glowering at me.

“Better than anyone,” he rumbles.  He sounds irritated, but the answer is sincere.

“Did he send you to check on me?”  I ask.

“Yes,” he says with the same coldness, but softer.  “He is my only friend.”

I guess we’re not too different.  I trust Asra more than anyone else.

“I can be your friend, too,” I say.

“What?  No.  Why?”

“We’re both friends with Asra.  I’d like it if we could be friends, too.”

“I don’t want another friend.  Especially not _you._ ”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Have we met?”  I ask, trying to figure out the source of his bitter comment.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says coldly.  “We’re not friends.”

“Why can’t we be?” I ask again.

He falls silent.  I hear a shouted warning, and I turn just in time to see the apple cart rolling onto me.  I stumble on the uneven cobblestones, and by the time I regain my balance, the stranger is gone.

Frustration flares in my chest, before it fades, replaced by confusion. 

I remember going to the square for the announcement, and then… Then I walked to the marketplace.  Why did I do that?  I can’t remember.  But there is no time to stop and think—I need to catch up with Portia.

I head back to the servants’ wagon, where Portia is tossing flower petals and rice onto the dancing city folk.

“Sevrina, there you are!” she says brightly, “You missed the big reveal!  Would you look at this crowd?”

I smile, and open my mouth to explain.

“No incidents back at the shop?” she says loudly—I think she wants the other servants to hear.  “Nothing out of the ordinary?”

Her smile has a shade of desperation, and she bats her eyes pleadingly.

The moment is lost.  We’re jostled as the wagon lurches to life.  Wild laughter follows us down streets ringing with the news of the Masquerade, but my mind is lost elsewhere.

I find myself longing to see Julian again.

 

The ride back to the city is alive with talk, and I allow it to distract me from my secret yearning.  When we return to the palace, the bridge is lined with fine carriages.  Portia informs me that the courtiers must have arrived.  A shiver runs from my head to the base of my spine.

She escorts me to a wing of the palace that smells strongly of incense and half a dozen perfumes.  I know we’ve reached the parlour door by the music and cackling laughter inside.  Noticing my nerves, Portia remembers to give me a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, Sevrina, these people can’t wait to meet you,” she says softly.

Her words ground me.  People…. People, that’s all they are.

The room is hazy, swimming with elegant plumes of smoke.  Softly lit figures lay about on pillowy couches.  As my escort, Portia had run me through the guest list for the evening debut.  I try to put faces to their names.

The Countess notices me first, glancing up from behind a gleaming pipe organ as she plays a victorious chord.

Portia clears her throat.  “Announcing Sevrina, friend of the palace and apprentice to Asra, the magician.”

“Welcome, Sevrina,” The Countess says warmly.

“This is Sevrina?  Cuter than I imagined!”

“What a delightful surprise!  We were all just talking about you!”

“Sit, sit!  Sit right here beside me, Sevrina—don’t be shy!”

The welcoming gestures take me by surprise. I hadn’t expected such enthusiasm.

Eager, manicured hands draw me down onto the couches and into the fold of conversation. The Countess watches from where she plays the pipe organ, drawing contemplative tones.  I am introduced to Procurator Volta, a very small woman in billowy clothes with a watery eye and friendly smile.  She greedily eats from a plate of small sandwiches.  Pontifex Vulgora is dressed in red from head to foot and sporting striking rouge on their face, highlighting their eyes.  Praetor Vlastomil is an eccentric looking man in dark robes with heavy earrings and a short beard.  Quaestor Valdemar is dressed as though they are about to perform a surgery, a hair wrap in the shape of two smooth cones atop their head, a surgical mask over their nose and mouth, and bright, frighteningly attentive eyes that take in everything around them with fascination.  Valdemar makes me particularly uneasy.

“Tell me, Sevrina,” The Countess asks brightly, “How was the announcement received?”

“One can only imagine,” says Quaestor Valdemar, “Even we, the favourites of the Countess, closest to her heart, had no idea of what she was planning.”

Procurator Volta nods in enthusiastic agreement, “That our dear Countess, who shares everything with us, could orchestrate such a surprise!”

Pontifex Vulgora looks positively ecstatic.  “A surprise Masquerade!  How lucky we are, not having to worry about planning for it!”

The Countess laughs, “How lucky Sevrina would have to be, to get a word in with you all.  Goodness.”

Praetor Vlastomil pipes in, “Oh, but how lucky she already is!  To be taken in by the Countess, a unproven, unknown apprentice!”

Procurator Volta is still nodding, like her head is on a spring. “And to take such a—dare I say—chance?  So very unlike our most thoughtful and meticulous Countess!”

The Countess shakes her head elegantly.  “Chance, you say?  It was not chance that led me to Sevrina’s door.”

Then a figure I didn’t see steps away from the far wall, closer to the crowd.  He has a long braid slung across his shoulders, and cold eyes.  This prim figure in steely grey robes rounds the couch and offers me a soft, pale hand, looking down a thin nose at me.  Consul Valerius—Portia made special mention of him.  The Countess minds him more than the others.

Consul Valerius purrs a low laugh, “If not chance, then perhaps the Countess might inform her adoring court how exactly it was that she arrived at the witch’s door that night?  Or, perhaps,” he suggests, with a barely detectable barb in his tone, “The witch might tell us herself?”

“Perhaps I might,” I say, trying to settle my nerves and make a good impression.

The Countess’ idle attention returns to the pipe organ as the courtiers swoop down upon me.  They seem ravenous for details of our fateful meeting the night The Countess came to me.

“Go on then, Sevrina!”

“How did it go, exactly?”

“Please, spare us no detail!”

“We have only heard the _gossippe_!”

“Did the Countess truly come to you in the dead of night, stumbling barefoot, tearing through the streets?”

“No,” I say, overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, “She just… knocked on the door.”

“Knocked on the door?”

“Did she perhaps _pound_ on the door?”

“Are you sure she didn’t throw herself, weeping, upon the door?”

“Please, my poor Countess!  I must know if she was weeping!”

“She wasn’t!”  I say, hoping to hush them a bit.  “But I knew that whatever it was, to come at such an hour, must be in a desperate state.”

This overwhelming audience gathers closer to me as I spin the tale, enraptured.  They cling to my every word, and their intense, barely blinking gazes make me feel tense and uneasy.  When my recollection is complete, the Countess ends her practice with an impressive trill.

“If you all wanted so badly to know how that night transpired, you might simply have asked,” she chides, “As it happens, I was having some trouble sleeping—“

“As you have been for some time, Countess!”

“Yes… as I have been for some time, I was having trouble sleeping,” the Countess reiterates.  “On that night, I woke haunted by the spectre of a dream, no escape for my mind, no comfort from my terrors, nor anyone to whom I could turn, who might understand them.  Indeed, I was in a desperate state—desperately seeking someone, anyone who may be of help to me.  It was I who was lucky to come across the one I needed so soon.  A benevolent universe brought us together, did it not, Sevrina?”

Her glimmering gaze falls fondly on me, and the courtiers shift, studying me with new intensity.  I start to sweat.

The moment is broken by an airy sigh as Consul Valerius peers at me through his wine glass with a steely eye.

“Oh it pains us, Countess,” he sighs, “To know that you felt you must look elsewhere for an ear to confide upon.”

The other courtiers seem to be in agreement, faces drawn with sympathy.

“We may seem frivolous to you,” he continues, “But should you deem us worthy of your trust, our hearts are as open as a book!”

He throws his arms wide with a flourish, knocking a pitcher of fragrant wine water over and across the entire front of me.  A collective gasp sweeps through the room as I feel the heady liquid seeping through to my skin.  He smirks.  I force myself to sit silently and not react aside from doing my best to cover myself with my arms.

The Countess’ expression as she strikes a sour chord and rises from the organ is murderous.

“Oh my apologies,” the Consul cries affectedly, “How clumsy of me!  Surely a witch as skilled as you know some hocus or pocus to remedy this dilemma?”

“Enough, Valerius,” The Countess roars, “You have exhausted my patience for tonight.  All of you, out.  To your chambers.  I would appreciate if you could make it there without spilling, Consul, but I won’t count on it.”

Tiptoeing around my splattered form, the courtiers file sheepishly out of the door.  I remain with the Countess, although the thought of running from this humiliating experience is very appealing, because her hand is resting on my shoulder.  After the courtiers have filed out of the room, my eyes well up in shame.

“I am sorry, Sevrina,” she mutters softly.  “I had imagined many outcomes to this evening’s affair…I must admit this was one of them… We must rid you of these ruined clothes, of course… _tsk_ … such pettiness.  But I’ve taken enough liberties with your wardrobe.  So please, do not hesitate.  Tell me what you would like, and please, spare no expense.”

Portia stands at the ready as the Countess folds her hands, awaiting my request.  It seems as if The Countess wants me to ask for riches… does she like showering people in gifts?

“My old clothes,” I mutter, tears stinging my eyes.

Portia nods.  “I thought you might say that,” she says.

The Countess looks perplexed.  Why wouldn’t I take the finer things that are offered to me?  But she doesn’t argue.

“You’re my guest of honour,” The Countess says softly, confusion and a little hurt crossing her countenance.  “You could be more selfish, Sevrina.  No matter—you shall have your old clothes… I regret if this comes as a surprise, but your comfort here is of great importance to me… Portia will escort you to your chambers.  You will be bathed and your garments returned.”

“Please, let me bathe myself?”  I whisper, tears streaming down my face.  Portia’s expression seems understanding.  The Countess looks at her and Portia’s eyes flit between us, not knowing what to say.

“My back,” I explain, wiping my tears, “I’m covered in burn scars from the accident I told you about….  They’re hideous.  I don’t want anyone to see…  I do appreciate your gifts of fine clothing, Countess—they’re beautiful!  Please don’t think me ungrateful—it’s just all so very overwhelming!—Those garments are exquisite and you have beautiful taste—I only know how fine and light the fabrics are and I am petrified it shows through… I know mine are not so handsome, but I know how well my own things cover me—I made them to.”

The Countess looks at Portia for verification.  Portia nods sadly.  The Countess’ gaze returns to me, sympathetic and kind.

“I see… Portia will escort you to the bath, and you will be left in peace to wash,” she says kindly.  “She will leave you with anything that you could need, and will wait outside of the bathing chamber to escort you to your room.”

 The Countess takes my hand in a caring gesture.

“Forgive me for overwhelming you so,” she says. “I had no way of knowing.  Please forgive me….  If there is anything you need, even if only just a friendly ear to hear your troubles, I hope you will know that you can turn to me.”

I sniff and wipe my face again, and manage a weak nod.  The Countess smiles, and then directs her gaze to Portia.

“Please see that Sevrina is comfortable,” she says sweetly.  “I think she must be exhausted.” And she turns to me. “I will send for a pot of hot lavender tea to help you sleep.”

I look at the Countess and manage a weak smile.  “Thank you, Countess.”

She smiles.  “Rest well, Sevrina.  Portia, come to me once Sevrina’s resting.”

“Yes, Milady,” Portia says, trying to supress a grin.

As we leave the chamber, I can hear cooing tones of the organ echo down the hall as I’m led away, lilting under the Countess’ graceful hands.  When I’ve bathed and returned to my chamber, there is a parcel waiting for me at the window.  There is a tightly spiralled note perched on top, addressed to me, from The Countess.

 

_A gift for my dear guest, this emerald which seemed to call your name.  Wear it in good health as a token of our friendship.  And Sevrina, you may call me Nadia._

 

Even in writing, I can feel Nadia’s gaze, ever penetrating, ever contemplating deeper.  The fluid chain slips through my fingers as I hold the jewel, and in a gradual wave, I start to recognize its energy.

Am I mistaken?  No…I know the feeling too well.  It’s Asra’s magic, radiating from the gem in gentle, soothing ripples.  I remember my desperate search in the backroom, looking for connections to him and coming up short.  I don’t understand why I should come upon it in this brilliant jewel, so alive with his energy… but I’ll be able to do it.  I have my chance.

 

I lie in wait until the halls are quiet… midnight, perhaps, before I steal out of my room.  With the emerald hanging from my neck, I’m enveloped in a dreamy calm.  The thought of hearing Asra’s voice again makes me smile—I have so longed for a familiar friend in these recent days, which have overwhelmed me and pressed me to my limits.  I dash through the empty halls and out onto the veranda.  Cold wind pulls and swells against me, moving languidly through the garden, carrying the babble of night birds.  I tighten my shawl and press onward.

For the first time, the sight of the maze ahead excites me.  I know the way now.

When I reach the clearing, I stop again to gaze and sadly reach a hand out to touch a peony.  I pluck one from one of the bushes and draw it up to my nose, inhaling its fragrance and brushing it up and down my cheek, my eyes closed, cherishing the gentle caress of the pale pink petals.  After a moment, I open my eyes and turn my focus to the fountain under the weeping willow tree, and again I see someone familiar is hanging from its branches.

Faust.  Did she know I was coming?  Or could this be where she keeps slithering off to?

Her weight drops eagerly onto my shoulders, sleek body giving me a friendly squeeze.  She takes immediate interest in the emerald, tongue flicking after it as I lift the pendant from my neck.

I close my eyes, take a deep, even breath, holding the jewel over the water, and drop it.  Light catches every glimmering, green facet as it sinks to the bottom of the pool.

Faust rolls herself along my shoulders as the water starts to change, colours blooming, shapes unfolding…

“You’re back,” Asra says with a smile.  Tall palms sway rhythmically behind him against a glittering sea of stars.  His hair catches starlight in every whorl.

“I saw the water changing this time—Faust, you’re looking lively.  Being around Sevrina does that to you, doesn’t it?”

His bright, smiling eyes twinkle as he lays his chin in is hand, gazing at me.

“You look tired,” I say softly.

Asra’s expression is sleepy, but content.  His secret escapades must have been fulfilling today.

“Do I?  I don’t feel tired, just a bit dreamy… I was just about to get into the water, but you beat me to it.”

I smile while Faust slides across my lap to take sniffing flicks at the water.

“You two have definitely gotten closer,” he says happily, “She’s opening up to you.”

I nearly choke.  My face must be a sight, because it makes him laugh, high and unrestrained.

“No, really, it’s true,” he says, still chuckling.  “Now listen, there’s something I want to say to you… I had a dream, and I decided I want to start being more open with you…  What’s on your mind?  Ask me whatever you like.  All that _I_ ask is that you start being more honest with me, too.”

His friendly gaze washes over me, bringing me calm.   But I have a few burning questions.

“Who is Julian to you?”  I whisper.

I’ve seen the depth of bitter emotion that crosses Julian’s face when he speaks of Asra… I wonder if I can discover why.

“Julian?” he asks with surprise, then his eyes narrow.  “Ah, yes… he goes by that name, too…  I knew him by another….  He was a friend, once, years ago.  Then like a brother.  And then he hurt someone dear to me so deeply there was no going back from it.  I’ll never forgive him for it….  You ask who he is to me, but who is he to anyone?  Whoever he needs to be to get what he wants.  Let’s leave it at this:  He’s a deeply selfish hack physician with a lot to learn.  Until he does, nothing good will come of him.”

He goes quiet for a moment and then his eyes widen.  He looks up as if exchanging a concerned glance with someone I can’t see, and then he looks at me very seriously, with a note of fear flickering in his countenance. 

“Why, Sevrina?”

I try not to betray my longing for Julian and just say, “He came to the shop searching for you.”

Asra’s eyes widen, and he visibly stiffens, looking almost alarmed.

“What?  He’s searching for me?”

“Yes, the night you left for your journey…  He broke in to the shop after the Countess left.”

“Oh Gods,” Asra exhales.  “Tell me everything he did and said.”

I spread my hands and sigh.  “He said he was looking for you, and I told him you’d gone and I didn’t know where or when you’d be back.  He asked me to read the cards for him and I did.  He seemed troubled.  He said you have answers for him.”

Asra frowns slightly, looking confused.  “Strange… He didn’t say anything more to _you_?”

The way he asks confuses me, and I shake my head.  “No, but he asked me if he and I have met before—he said I seem familiar and he felt strangely at ease with me, but I told him I don’t know him… I felt compelled to give him some harpweed, he seemed to be struggling with pain in his head—lots of wincing and pressing his temples...”

The look on Asra’s face is one of surprise, which melts away into a pensive, absent gaze, as if he may now understand.

“I…. see.”

“I hope that’s alright,” I mutter.  “I didn’t know how else to handle him—he showed up so unexpectedly.  Did I do wrong?”

“No, no you didn’t do anything wrong, Sevrina.”

He goes quiet for a moment, lost in thought, and then, with a deep sigh and a shake of his head, Asra clears the heavy mood.  He smiles.

“Is that what you wanted to know, or is there something else on your mind?”

His twinkling eyes search mine with wordless depth.  I don’t know how to broach the subject of Julian further since he’s made his feeling of loathing for him so clear.

“When will you be coming home?” I ask.

“Soon,” he says vaguely.  “A few more days.”

“It’s getting late,” I whisper.

“Is it?  Time is strange, here.  Go rest, Sevrina.  Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I see Asra reaching toward me, toward the water.  His touch scatters the image, and he’s gone.  Faust looks disappointed, curled on the edge of the pool, as I rise to my feet.

“I know, Faust, I know,” I whisper, scratching under her chin. “We’ll see him again soon.”

She looks longingly at the pool as I pull out the emerald pendant, and watches me thoughtfully as I shake away the water droplets and replace it around my neck. She reluctantly slides up my arm to rest against me.  Her presence makes me feel less lonely, less out of my depth.  I gather her into my arms and head back inside.


	7. The Lovers

A flock of birds take flight outside the window, startling me from a foggy dream.  In it, I was in Julian’s arms, leaning against him at the foot of the tree by the fountain as he twirled a pink peony in his long fingers, teasing me and tickling my cheeks with it between kisses.  It felt peaceful, giving me a sense of belonging and wholeness that I don’t know in my waking life.  My heart sinks as the vision fades, and it takes me a moment to realise I’m slumped over his desk in the library, books and papers scattered around me.

Portia told me this morning that I’d have the day to myself, on account of Nadia’s headaches.  With no other tasks needing my urgent attention, I’d decided to try my luck once more in looking through his papers and books in some feeble effort to be nearer to him again.  I sit up with a groan, peeling a piece of parchment off my cheek, and survey the mess as I rub my bleary eyes.

I’ve found nothing.  No extra traces of Julian, no information to tell me where he’s gone or what really happened, and nothing that would help me understand how drawn I feel to him.

I keep looking over the letter addressed _Dear Sister_.  After the encounter at the shop yesterday I have a funny feeling that this sister I had assumed was far from here may well be closer than I realized.  It would explain Portia’s eagerness to keep me away from the library, her dropping the dish at dinner the first night I was here, and her desperation to hide him yesterday.  But I haven’t been able to speak to her alone.

Suddenly, I hear a shout outside.

“Oh come on, I really need to get in there!”  Is that Portia’s voice, coming through the open window to the garden?  It seems to carry across the treetops.

It sounds like she’s having an argument, though I can’t quite hear the other party involved.

I stand slowly, stretching sleep from my limbs, and leave the library, making my way to the gardens.

“Please?  You’re really testing my patience, here!” I hear a shout again.  It is definitely Portia, and then, a menacing voice in return.

“How dare you?  Don’t you know who I am?!  Tell me I’m pretty!”

I only hear the second voice as I get closer to the commotion.  A shrill shriek that pierces even the heavy foliage still blocking my view.

“Yes, yes, I know.  I swear to everything above that if you don’t move, I’ll have roast cockatoo for dinner!”

Gnarled branches are the only things that obscure my sight now.  I pass a final tree, and emerge into a small clearing.  Settled in the middle of the copse is a squished looking cottage, surrounded by an overflowing garden.  I see Portia with a rake in her hand, staring down an obstinate bird.

“That’s it!  Pepi, honey—get him!”

A seal point cat with a pudgy face and round eyes hops onto Portia’s shoulder, batting at the pure white cockatoo.  The bird is pacing on the roof of a small work shed, shrieking and nipping at Portia as she tries to enter.  A particularly well-aimed swipe from the cat dislodges the bird and sends it flying.  It clips Portia’s head with its wing in its escape, muttering in anger at this undignified treatment.

“Ooh, that awful bird!” Portia groans to herself.  “I fucking hate him, Pepi!”  Just then, she sees me and her expression changes into one of being startled.

“Sevrina!” she says in surprise, “Fancy seeing you here!”

I approach her and laugh.

“Bird trouble?”

Her cheeks change to pink in embarrassment.  She smooths her apron and quietly recovers, with a cheerful smile.

“That awful thing likes to mess up the garden.  I despise it!” She laughs, then watches my face as I take in our surroundings. “I’m surprised you managed to find this place—It’s a little off the beaten path.”

She’s right.  “Where are we?” I ask.

“Oh, how rude of me!” she exhales, passing a hand over her head.  She clears her throat and then spreads one arm out to show off the cottage.  “Welcome to Casa de Portia!  My own little oasis on the palace grounds,” she says proudly.  “Just watch out for the graspgourds—they’re feisty today.”

A curious vine grasps at Portia’s ankle as she says that, but she swiftly kicks it off.

“Oh,” I say with surprise. “You don’t live in the servants quarters with the others?”

Portia shakes her head and smiles.  “No… Milady gave me the cottage.  She said that with everything I handle, she knew I’d never feel away from work if I stayed with the rest of the servants… She knows I enjoy gardening and gave me this place to do with as I please.”

I smile.  “That was very generous… It’s lovely here.”

“Why don’t you have a seat?”  She suggests.  “It must have been a walk to get here, hmm?” 

She gestures to a bench carved out of a large log that rests against the exterior of her cottage.  I pick my way carefully through the overgrown garden to the seat, stepping over fantastic plants and herbs.

 Portia takes up her rake again, and regards me with a little nervousness that she tries to hide behind a pleasant smile.

“You don’t mind me working a little while we talk, do you?  I’ve got a lot of work to do in the garden today.”

“Not at all,” I say with a smile, hoping it puts her at ease.  “This is some garden—you’ve really got your work cut out for you.”

“Gardening has been my hobby since I was about twelve,” she says.  “I’ve always loved plants.  Gardening gives me time to think and it’s good for my mind when I worry.  My brother used to say I…”

She trails off, and her tension reappears.  I can tell she is hoping I’ll leave the subject, but I can’t.

“Portia,” I say softly, “Please don’t be alarmed, but I need to know… Is Julian your brother?”

If I wasn’t sure before, I am now.  The naked shock and hurt on Portia’s face tells me all I need to know.  This is exactly what she was dreading.

“Yes,” she says quietly.  “I’m sorry about that little scene outside your shop yesterday… You know, I was just… surprised to see him there.”

“I was, too,” I say.

“He’s got a real flair for the dramatic,” she explains, then half smiles, “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

“You didn’t know he was in Vesuvia?” I ask.

“Not until I saw him yesterday,” she admits.  “Up to then, I’d hoped it was only a rumour.  What he thinks he’s doing here… I’m sorry I didn’t smack him a little harder for the trouble.  Gods, he’s in so much danger… You can imagine my shock, coming around to your shop to see him there in your doorway, kissing your hand…”

I smile involuntarily at the thought of those kisses he fervently placed on my fingers, and look down to my hand, running my touch idly over the place he’d pressed his lips.

“Yes,” I say stupidly.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she says softly, taking a step closer to me.  “You looked to be very fond of each other… Are you close?”

My cheeks flush under the scrutiny, and I shake my head.

“I first met him the night the Countess visited my shop,” I explain.  “He arrived shortly after she left….  But I feel as if…”

Portia notices I trail off, but leaves it be.  She looks around us, and then, satisfied that we’re alone, steps closer to me.

“Why didn’t you tell Milady?” she asks cautiously, a barely detectable trembling in her whisper.  This is what’s really on her mind.  The look on her face is not unkind.  I feel as if I can tell her anything without consequence.

“I don’t know enough yet,” I say simply.  “If it’s my word that knots the hangman’s noose…  How can I send a man to his death, especially before I’ve investigated his innocence?”

She exhales a sigh.  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Sevrina… I don’t really know what mess Ilya’s gotten himself into, but murder?  I really struggle to imagine him being capable of that.”

“Why do you work for the Countess if she wants to hang him?” I ask softly.  “Does she know he’s your brother?”

Portia sighs and stops her garden work.  She comes over to the bench and sits beside me, talking in low tones.

 “I came to work at the palace two and a half years ago… I was brought in by the chamberlain.  No one has ever questioned my surname being Devorak, but besides that, Milady wasn’t planning any such manhunt then—I didn’t even know she knew Ilya—I thought Ilya just worked for the Count when he was here, and with what happened to the Count, well... I never brought it up.  It’s only been recently that there have been rumours he was even in Vesuvia, and so the courtiers have encouraged her to find him, so she’s determined to see justice for the case… and in my time at the palace, I bonded with her… I grew to love her.”

I understand now.  Portia’s position is more complex than I’d realized.

“Are you and the Countess…”

Portia shakes her head, but smiles absently.  “She’s kissed me in private, but that’s the extent of it as of now.  There’s been no dramatic declaration of love, but I do believe there are real feelings… You don’t kiss friends the way she’s kissed me.”

I smile.  “I wish you both every happiness, from the bottom of my heart.”

Portia bows her head to me, her cheeks flushed, and changes the subject back to her brother.

“Are you…are you planning on turning Ilya in?”

I shake my head.  “The Countess wants me to catch a murderer… I won’t condemn him without investigating his innocence…. When I have met with him, I… I don’t want to see him hanged.”

Portia gives me a look that goes from graciousness to realization to impishness. 

“Was it him that made you look so lovesick in the bath the other night?” She asks, the corners of her mouth slowly turning upward.

I feel my face prickle with heat and she begins to laugh.

“I was with him that night, yes,” I whisper, trying to be diplomatic.  “We talked for quite a while… I want to help him.”

Portia nods her head and gives a small smile.  She reaches over and squeezes my hand in understanding.

“You can’t know how comforting that is for me,” she says softly, “If he has you in his corner, I get the feeling everything will turn out alright in the end.”

“Portia…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

She smiles.  “Of course!  That’s what I’m here for, you know—Pep talks and expert gardening skills.”  She winks.  I know we understand each other.

“I’ll let you know anything helpful I find,” I say softly.  She pats my shoulder, trying to settle down the emotion that’s making her cheeks pink.  I can see that she is very concerned about her brother’s safety.

“Oh my, it’s getting late, isn’t it?” she mutters, peering overhead at the sky.  It’s already approaching evening and the sun is low in the sky.  Late light dapples in the clearing, dancing on her face.  “I’m very glad you came to talk to me, Sevrina,” she says, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. “I knew right from the start that we’d be friends.”

I smile at her.  “Thank you, Portia.  I will see you tomorrow…  I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

With the sun at my back, I turn from Portia’s garden, head swirling with thoughts of Julian and his predicament.  Strangely enough, I feel more at ease after speaking with Portia.  The trials ahead of me seem less insurmountable now that I feel truly as if I have a friend here.

I decide to take another route back to the palace, wandering aimlessly through the ancient foliage.  Without any obligations today, it seems a good excuse to explore the grounds.  The further I get from Portia’s cottage, the darker the sky above me grows.  Soon, I realize I don’t know where I am.  I’m lost in the forest.

Dread growing in the pit of my stomach, I turn deeper into the darkness.  My feet move as if possessed.  The palace’s soaring spires emerge at last from the top of the trees, and the rest of the gleaming building soon follows.  At last I feel I can catch my breath—I’m wasn’t as far off as I’d thought.  Thick foliage opens up to rolling fields, cut across with a nearby brook that serpentines through the grass.  At first, my eyes pass over it, and then the colour of the water registers, deepening the feeling of dread that I haven’t managed to shake off.

Red.

Oh, Gods….

There’s no mistaking it.  Crimson stains the slow-moving stream, seeping steadily into the banks.  I scramble away from it and take a deep breath.  With trepidation, I follow the flow upstream with my eyes.  Seeping from the stonework of a forgotten corner of the palace… poison.  It would be easy to miss.  The brook is small, tucked away on a side of the palace I imagine isn’t patrolled often.  I turn back to the garden in horror, seeing rot and decay.  The trees at the edge of the field here are dying.  It seems as if all colour has left them.

I swallow hard, and resolve to follow the stream to its end.  With heavy feet, I start the long journey along the banks.  The sun slips to sleep below the horizon, streaking the sky with vibrant hues of pink and orange, which fade away slowly to deep blue and violet as I continue my walk along the water into the night.  It’s very cool, and I was silly enough to leave the palace without a shawl, but I am determined to follow this stream.

Soon, vast open fields give way to rocky cliff side and the stream transitions to lemonstone structure.  An aqueduct, one of many flowing towards the city, designed to provide water for its many denizens.  From this high, balanced on the first stone of the unconventional path before me, I can see all of Vesuvia, sprawling, chaotic and vibrant.  Swirls of smoke leave chimneys to dance in the air, twining together like lovers.  Overhead, a raven circles me, swooping lower as I walk along the bridge.  He seems familiar…

The raven lands with a thud on my shoulder, tilting its head to me.

“Oh… hello,” I whisper, surprised by this new visitor.  The raven opens its mouth as if to scream, but simply nibbles on the hem of my shirt instead, its beady eyes watch me warily.  In fact, all its feathers are ruffled as if it was on high alert.

I open my mouth to say something else, but a noise startles the bird into flight, leaving me alone once more.

Eventually, the aqueduct lowers and joins together with another water line, both headed deeper into the city.  I can see buildings around me, now, the first signs of urban life, as I reach the outskirts. 

There’s doubt in my mind no longer.  Crimson poison is running from the palace grounds into the city’s water supply.

Suddenly, a voice whispers my name.

“Sevrina?”

I whip my head to the right, and see a figure slowly emerge into the dim light of a city lantern.  Face cast half in shadow, standing on the aqueduct with me, is Julian.

“Julian,” I breathe, a plethora of feelings flooding me at once.  He stands at the edge of the aqueduct, a dark silhouette framed by the light of the moon.  Behind him the city towers like a behemoth, a chaotic sprawl of buildings stacked atop each other.  I can’t supress a smile when I see him.

In his hands is the mask he wore the night I met him.  He turns it in his hands slowly, like he’s contemplating what to do with it.

“Sevrina,” he says again, this time with surprising warmth, “Fancy seeing you here—Out for a night walk?”

I step nearer and glance at the mask.  He sighs, gaze dropping to the reservoir pool below us.  The red lining of his cloak reflects and refracts in the water, splashes of crimson dancing against each other.

“Me, I was just… thinking.  Funny, fickle thing, life, isn’t it?”

“Should you be standing so close to the water?” I ask with concern.

“What, this water?” he mutters, “It’s harmless, Sevrina, or as harmless as it can be.  It won’t do anything to me, or anything to anyone, anymore.  Sure, a few people might get sick if they go swimming in it, but… isn’t that a miracle?  They went and figured it out.  Or outlasted it.  Wonder how they did it?  It’s no matter, I suppose.  Life finds a way, doesn’t it?  The plague is over.  Ah, and so is my career.  You can’t set up a medical practice if you’re wanted for murder. It’s like… like a Count with no city.  Or a barkeep with no drinks…. So here I am, throwing away the last piece of a past I can’t reclaim.  Pity, isn’t it?  Ah, well.”

He glances down to the mask once more, then lets it drop into the water below.  Pale, slithering shapes move to swarm around it in the moment it hits the surface.

He shakes off the thought and looks at me warmly.  He takes a few steps nearer, until he is facing me head on. 

“But in this moment,” he says, “My delight in seeing your face has eclipsed every fear I have of my own uselessness.  All I can think of now is the absolute pleasure that’s overtaken me knowing that I’m in your company again.”

I can feel my heartbeat quicken.

“You may not believe this,” I say softly, “But I’m pleased to see you, too… I was hoping to see you again.”

Julian’s lips curl into an easy smile and I feel my breath grow heavier under his gaze.  He’s standing close enough to me that I feel his breath when he speaks.

“You really are a beautiful little creature,” he whispers, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face, “And too sweet by far to say such a thing.”

“Oh, I…. Thank you…” I whisper, averting my gaze humbly and trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach.

“I tell you you’re beautiful and you thank me,” he looks at me with a gentle smile, “If I told you that you’re dazzling, would you blush?  If I told you you’re exquisite, would you tremble?”

I am trembling now.  He draws my chin up with his gentle gloved fingers so that I look him in the eye as he tentatively caresses my cheek.

“Oh Gods, Sevrina… If I somehow found the words to tell you how utterly resplendent you are, would you end my aching misery and kiss me?”

I’m staring up at him, wide-eyed.  I can scarcely believe my own actions as I wind my fingers into his cloak.

“Yes,” I breathe, “Yes…”

His gaze is intense, but I have no desire to shrink from it.  His eye drops from mine to look enticingly at my mouth, and he brushes my bottom lip with his thumb.

“Sevrina,” he says, “I don’t know what it is about you, but I’ve never been so irresistibly bewitched.”

He begins to bend his head down toward my mouth. My fingers grip his cloak so tightly my hands ache.  He gets so close I can feel his breath pass over my mouth, and then the raven returns and breaks the moment with a ragged screech, nearly flying into us in its frenzy.

“Shit—Guards afoot,” Julian mutters with sudden alarm.  “Look lively, Sevrina—we’d best make tracks!”

We both leap into action at the same time, running further down the aqueduct to reach the street.  Julian gets there first, turning back to me as I follow.  My foot slips on a wet stone, tumbling me backwards into the reservoir below.  I hear him call my name just before I hit the water.

Darkness engulfs me as I’m swallowed up by the reservoir.  The impact knocks my breath away.  I struggle against the cold water, kicking frantically to the surface.  As I thrash, something moves against me, slippery and sleek as it latches onto my side.

Julian’s hands draw me out of the water before I can really register what’s happened.  He swears under his breath once he sees the eel latched to my side, my blood growing more vibrantly visible under its translucent skin as it gorges in its parasitic meal.  The creature undulates in shock of being out of water, but still it doesn’t let go.

Wasting no time, he grips the creature with both hands at the base of the head and counts down.

“On the count of three, Sevrina… One… Two… Three!”

On three, he squeezes and pulls, forcing the eel to open its mouth.  He tosses it back in to the reservoir without watching where it lands.  His eyes are fixed on my side, which is steadily bleeding.  He rushes to help me stand, putting an arm around my waist to help support me.  My legs are shaky.

“Up you go, then.  Easy now, I’ve got you…”

I don’t know if it’s from the cold of the water, the shock of my injury, or being in his arms, but I’m now trembling uncontrollably.

I’m gasping for breath and I stumble as I get to my feet.  I’m too shaken to hear what Julian hears, but it makes him start, and with me in tow, stumbling and struggling to move gracefully, we start to run.  He is stronger than his lean frame would initially suggest, and as I struggle to keep on my feet, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me. I begin to register the amount of blood I’m losing based on the trail we leave in our hasty escape.  We dart into the shadow of a large building, and pause.

“Can you stand?” he says urgently, trying to get me to my feet. “Are you steady?”

I’m shaking and feeling dizzy.  I cling to his arm, feeling my knees ready to buckle beneath me.

“Right.  Foolish question,” Julian sighs. “You’re going into shock.  Try to keep calm—find something to focus on. I’ll take care of you.”

He lifts me into his arms again as if I am feather-light, and making a quick survey of his surroundings, continues on his getaway.  Several streets up, he darts into a narrow, deserted alley.  We collapse into a wet, trembling heap, covered in my blood.

“Let me see that bite,” he says, pulling back from me.  I nod sluggishly, and I struggle to speak. “I’ll take that as a _yes_ ,” he says, trying to laugh.

He helps me to lie back on the ground, and slides my torn, blood-soaked tunic up and over my side, tucking it under itself below my bust to preserve my modesty.  I can’t make myself look at the still-oozing bite, as I am trying too hard to maintain my consciousness while my visceral reaction is trying to knock me out.  I stare blankly at the night sky while his hands, deft and gentle while simultaneously strong, examine the bite.

“The bleeding won’t stop… Damn…” he says, more to himself than to me. 

He draws back from me and removes his gloves.  My heart leaps for a moment at the sight of the murderer’s brand on the back of his left hand, the mark pigmented in black, but I don’t feel it’s dangerous to trust him.  The feeling of fear is fleeting. 

“Hold still, Sevrina,” he mutters.  “I swear I won’t harm you.  Please trust me.”

I nod weakly.  His hand is cold to the touch as he lays it over the wound, and at that moment my body registers the pain of the bite.  Another wave of sickening faintness threatens to pass over me, but I fight through it with a whine I can’t supress, and I focus on his determined face.

“Deep breaths,” he says reassuringly, his gaze meeting mine.  “This will only take a minute or two.”

He slips his other hand under my head as the first stays pressed to the wound.  He runs his thumb to and fro across the underside of my hair, and the caress is a welcome distraction. He looks into my eyes reassuringly and smiles.  All at once, I’m not in any pain and feel very calm.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I mutter softly, with a weak smile.

Julian can’t supress a laugh while he straightens my tunic.  “If you’re well enough to joke, you’re well enough to sit.”

He helps me sit up.  The pain has gone, but my adrenaline level makes me feel a little dizzy.  He suddenly seems worry free, and caresses my cheek with his bare fingers.

“At least you didn’t catch me breaking and entering this time,” he laughs.  “You’ll be alright now, my Dear, I promise…  I was surprised to see you on that aqueduct, you know—funny thing, life.  Two lost souls finding one another in the night…”

I follow his line of sight to the aqueduct where I’d fallen.  It’s higher than I realized.  And then a soft light draws my eye back to him.

An intricate magic mark is glowing under the skin of his throat.  It looks familiar but I can’t place it.  He catches me staring and his expression hardens a little.

“Do you recognize your master’s handiwork?” he says softly, but with a touch of bitterness.

Does he mean… Asra did this?

But the thought is fleeting as I see a bloom of blood forming in his shirt.

“Oh Gods,” I breathe.

“His parting gift to me—this curse.  I can take away bodily wounds, as you can see, and in return I get to experience them myself.”

He winces and cradles his side, swaying forward.  His side is bleeding steadily, just as mine… was?  My wound is closed over, as if it were never there. I reach out frantically to help him and he tries to put on a reassuring air through the pain.

“It won’t last—it never does,” he says, trying to calm me, “Then again, I’ve never been bitten by a vampire eel before... This might be interesting.”

“Interesting, how?” I whisper, filing with dread.

He allows me to assist in pulling his clothing away from his side.  The skin is torn and bleeding heavily, as mine was.

“Fate seems to keep inventing new ways to test my body,” he mutters, tugging his gloves back on.

“Now that _does_ sound interesting,” I whisper, trying to make sense of it.

“Oh, it certainly can be,” he says, making eye contact with me. 

His eye locks with mine for a long moment before we hear voices, almost too late.  The Countess’ guards, doing their rounds.  They’re quite close.

“Fuck,” Julian breaths, pulling me into a shadowy alcove off of the alley where he healed me.  The space is tight, and to hide, our bodies are pressed close together.  I’m boxed against the wall—behind his cloak, we are camouflaged in the shadow.  This close, I see the pain in his expression.  I cover my thudding heart with both hands, lest he hear it.  He stares at the wall, listening, willing the guards to pass, but as the sound of the passing guards fades, his gaze meets mine.  For a moment, we stare at each other.  I’m tremulous and my insides feel warm. 

“Sevrina,” he whispers.  He is about to say something but we hear a thud at the end of the alley.

“Damn,” he says.  “Not the time, I suppose.  Let’s go.”

He grabs my hand and tugs me out of the alley.  We start to run, but I don’t know where we’re going.  I am just following him, dying to know what was on the tip of his tongue just then…

Julian, on the other hand, seems to know exactly where he’s taking us.  He seems to know these side streets like the back of his hand, darting this way then that without even a moment’s hesitation.  My hand nearly slips from his, he is moving with such speed, and I tug him back as I see the entrance to an overgown garden.  This would be the perfect place to hide.

“Julian, through there,” I whisper, my heart in my throat, “We’ll be perfectly hidden.”

He cracks a wry smile and nods, and we rush toward the gate.  He helps me to climb over it, but I tumble down gracelessly and land on my back with a soft groan as the wind utterly flies out of me. Julian lands next to me like a cat, right on his feet.

Our timing is perfect.  The guards go past.  We’re concealed by a cover of thick vines and shadow.  Julian helps me to my feet, and we catch our breath in the garden.  My hand is in his and I feel no need to pull away—it feels comfortable.  Strangely familiar. 

“Take my cloak,” He says softly, sloughing it off.  “You’re all wet—I don’t want you to catch cold.”

“Just a moment,” I whisper.  I close my eyes and pass my hands over my clothes and hair.  With a little focus, my magic dries my clothes and removes any trace of blood.  Julian smiles in wonder.

“That’s a useful trick if ever I’ve seen one,” he mutters in amazement.  “How incredible.”

I smile.  “You’ll come to find I’m full of useful tricks,” I whisper flirtatiously.

He smiles broadly.  “I am in no doubt, my Dear….  Now, please, take my cloak—your arms are bare and it’s cold tonight… May I?”

When I nod, he swirls his cloak around me and fastens it around my shoulders with nimble fingers. 

“There we are,” he says, smiling warmly.  “Much better.  Will you be warm enough?”

“Yes… Thank you,” I whisper bashfully.

Julian smiles and offers me his hand.  When I take it, we turn to survey our surroundings.  The garden is quiet, overgrown and beautifully wild.  The moon overhead casts a bluish glow over us, and the marble pillars and statues seem aglow in the night.  We step hand in hand over uneven stone ground and stop by what once must have been a very impressive fountain.

“Look at this place,” he says delightedly.  “That was some quick thinking, Sevrina.  It looks like you have a knack for discovering hidden beauty.”  He slips his hand from mine to examine our surroundings.  “I wonder what other parts of the city have fallen into neglect like this.” 

There’s unhidden delight in his eye as he examines the place.  It’s a joy to watch his awe, his enchantment take him over.

“Look at this brute!” he says, motioning toward a statue of a bull that is now beginning to be overtaken by ivy.  “Hello there, handsome!”  He laughs as he puts an arm around the beast’s shoulders.  He looks back to me, smiling.  “Dangerous looking creature, isn’t he?”

I’m smiling broadly and unashamedly at his charm, and then the thought occurs to me.

“Is the bite still bleeding?” I ask.   I struggle to see in the dim light if the bloody patch in his coat is still growing.

“Are you worried about me, Sevrina?” He asks curiously.  “You needn’t be.  I’m perfectly alright, see?”

He spreads his arm out, nearly knocking over the statue, and swears under his breath as he steadies it. 

“Reflexes notwithstanding,” he mutters in embarrassment.  “But truly, it’s fine.  It was just a little bite, nothing I can’t handle.  There’s far more dangerous things out there than vampire eels.”

My hand goes to the once-bloody patch of my tunic where the eel bite once was, but now was smoothed over as if it never happened.  I take a step nearer to Julian, and look solemnly to him as his gaze meets mine.

“Thank you,” I say softly.  “For what you did for me back there.  I don’t know how to repay you.”

His expression quiets me.  He doesn’t want my praise or for me to feel indebted to him.  A soft wind blows and some leaves fall tremulously from the trees over our heads.  His eyes light up a moment as he looks at me.

“Hold still,” he whispers, aghast, and slowly reaches his gloved hands forward to pluck a luminous blue flower from my hair.  It must have fallen with the breeze.

It glows a bright, vivid blue in the dark, the star-shaped petals curling ever so slightly as he touches it.  He twirls it in his fingers much the way he did the peony in my dream, and offers it to me with a knowing, wry smile forming on his lips.  I reach out to accept the bloom but he draws it back away, protectively.

“Ah, ah ah,” he says. “Careful, Sevrina, there’s poison in those petals.”

I’ve never seen this flower before, in my spellbooks or in Asra’s apothecary. 

“What is it?” I whisper, studying his expression curiously.

“Deadly Starstrand,” he explains softly, looking wistfully first at flower and then my face, “A single drop of poison distilled from this flower could kill a babe in its crib.  It’s killed tyrants and kings, innocent and guilty.  It could topple empires with a careless hand.”

He offers it to me once again, gazing into my eyes.

“Do you still want it?”

I take the flower from him with cautious fingers and lift it to my nose to discover its fragrance.  Its scent is acrid, an underlying note of iron and sickness that stings the air.

“You said the poison has to be distilled… Doesn’t that make it harmless to touch?” I inquire.

He smiles and nods.  “Well, I wouldn’t eat it if I were you, Sevrina, but you’re right, it won’t harm you like this.”

I take a step towards him.  He plucks the flower from my fingers, grinning at me flirtatiously, and I feel his fingers brush against my ear as he tucks the flower behind it, lingering there for a moment before falling to my shoulder.

“It sounds like you’re not afraid of danger,” I whisper as his eye meets mine.

“Afraid of danger?” he laughs, “I live for it.  I’m positively enchanted by it.”

I smile.  “And pain doesn’t scare you, either?”

“Why should it?  In my line of work, you can’t be afraid of pain.  One might say I have rather an intimate knowledge of it….”

I feel an irresistible urge to touch him, and a boldness bubbles up in me that I normally don’t display.  I place a hand on his waist and take a step forward, pressing lightly at the wound in his side.  Is there still a wound?  Can I do anything to soothe it?  He swallows hard and then grins at me.

“Oho, are we dancing?” he laughs mischievously, “I didn’t know you could.  What’s your poison?  Tango?  Waltz?”

I come nearer to him, and the increased pressure of my hand on the wound makes him bite his lip.  I draw back the pressure now that I’m sure the wound is still there.  He stumbles back into a crumbling wall and gives me a desperate look, but I don’t think it’s the pain.

“Not the waltz, then?” he sighs, “Pity.  I’m an excellent dancer.”

His hands grip me tightly as he steadies himself.  Once he’s got his balance again, he draws me close and tilts my chin up to look at him.  He draws nearer, bringing his mouth downward to mine, and we suddenly hear muffled voices at the garden gate, and to our horror, the gate goes ajar.

I was mistaken in thinking the guards didn’t patrol here.

“Of course,” Julian mutters in frustration.  “Right on time.  Let’s go.”

Julian takes my hand and we make our way through to the back entrance of the garden.  We squeeze through where there is a missing bar to the gate, and we are out in the street once more.  Julian leads me deeper into areas of the city I don’t know, and which don’t have the most favourable reputation.  We dart here and there, and take wild turns to evade the patrolmen.  He knows every turn of these streets with obvious familiarity.  We slow our pace as we near a dilapidated house on the outskirts of the district.  There’s a small garden and some chickens at the back.

“In we go, Sevrina,” he says, and he clamours through an open window around the back, pulling me in after him.  After climbing through, he steadies me on my feet, a hand at my waist, while he looks around.

Julian is tall, and the ceilings are low enough to brush his auburn curls.

“Mazelinka?” he says, testing if we are disturbing, “Sorry to drop in like this.  The guards… Mazelinka?”

The name makes my head twinge.

“Mazelinka?” I ask, unclasping his cloak, “Who is Mazelinka?”

“A very dear friend of mine,” Julian says softly, taking the cloak and hanging it over the back of a chair.  “Sharp as a hook… great at cards.  Mazelinka?  Hmm.  She must not be home.”

My eyes go wide with realization as he discards his gloves. 

“Julian, did we just break in?”

He nods, then shrugs.  “Kind of.  But desperate times call for dubious measures… Hmm, she seems to be out,” then he adds with a laugh, “That’s lucky—she doesn’t like it when I come in through the window.”

I laugh softly and then his eyes go wide, causing me to go quiet.

He looks at the plant on the windowsill.

“Damn,” he says, “The dragon’s breath… I’ve toppled it again, and crushed a vine.  Shit…  She won’t be happy about that.  I’ll be getting an earful.”

He passes a hand over is hair when the door starts to rattle.  A moment later it opens to a squat, fat old woman in raggedy clothes who I presume must be Mazelinka.  She starts as she sees us.

“Ilya! Don’t tell me you came in through the window again, you slippery boy!”

Julian straightens up, practically to attention, and hits his head on the ceiling with a wince.  Undeterred, he bends gracefully down to offer his arm and dipping for a kiss on the cheek.

“Ah, Mazelinka, you’re a sight for the sore eye!” he schmoozes, “Love the shawl, is it new?”

She sees right through him and rolls her eyes.  “You know it isn’t.  I thought you might be about when I saw the guards… oh?”

Her eyes land on me.  I stand very awkwardly and try to smile as she blinks up at me.

“Who do we have here?” she says, her eyes welling up. “Ilya, aren’t you going to introduce me to your pretty friend?”

Julian smiles.  “What appalling bad manners I have today… Mazelinka, this is Sevrina.  A… new friend of mine.”

Mazelinka smiles drolly.  “Mmm hmmm… A new friend, eh?  Make yourself comfortable Sevrina.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say.

Mazelinka wipes her eyes and smiles as she looks up at me through her wiry hair.

“Are you alright, dear?” Julian asks softly.  “You’ve tears in your eyes.”

Mazelinka laughs and nods her head as she moves into the kitchen.  “Just the wind outside tonight—it’s been so dry and a good gust kicked up some dust into my eyes,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand, and then she shouts when she sees the state of the flowers at the windowsill. 

“Ilya, my dragon’s breath, you rascal!”

Julian rushes to her to explain.  “That’s completely my fault,” he explains, “I wasn’t thinking and I…”

“Didn’t fit through the door, I know,” she says, cuffing him on the shoulder.  “Fetch me the round pot, will you?”  She turns her back to us and empties a cloth sack onto the counter.  She immediately begins to peel and chop the contents, and after casting a thoughtful glance my way, she appears to be completely absorbed in her work.

Julian blinks, nods and moves to a cupboard.  I suddenly notice there’s a sway in his step.  When he smiles at me, he looks weary.  My thoughts go immediately to the bite.  He said it wouldn’t last, but his gaze lingers strangely, dazed. 

“Are you alright, Julian?” I ask softly, trying to avoid alarming Mazelinka.  He drags a well-used cauldron from the cupboard.

“I’m fine, Sevrina,” he says dismissively.  “Don’t worry about me, I’m alright.”

“Let me see that bite.”

He hangs the pot over the fire and comes close to survey me. 

“I promise, Darling, I’m alright, but I’ll show you if it will ease your mind.”

He allows me to unbutton his coat and he opens it wide enough to see the side of his shirt is soaked through with blood and sticking to him.  I pass my hand over it, focusing my magic, leaving it dry and restored to a brilliant, bright white.  He gives me a soft smile as I tug his shirt from out of his high-waisted trousers, and lift it up to look at the wound in his side.

The wound is no longer there.  His skin is smooth and pale, and no trace of the eel bite is left behind.  Astonished, I place my hand over the place it once was, and look up into his eyes.  I can’t hold back a dumbfounded smile.

“I told you it wouldn’t last,” he says reassuringly.  “You shouldn’t be so surprised—this is your master’s work.  More importantly, how are _you_?”

He takes both of my hands in his and holds them over his chest with a level of dropped inhibition.  A spark of interest is in his hazy eye.

“Well, Sevrina, my Little Sparrow,” he says silkily, “Here we are.  Tell me, do you feel strange in any way?  Experiencing any tingling?  Some people have described a tingling sensation after.”

Mazelinka, who has indeed been listening, calls to him, “After what?”

Julian rolls his eye as he realizes our conversation has not been as quiet as hoped.

“After using the curse, dear,” he answers flatly.

He places a hand on my waist over where the wound was, and then rears back when Mazelinka steps between us confrontationally.

“And what did you use it for?” she says, waving a spoon in his face like she’s scolding a mischievous child, “What have you gone and done to yourself this time?”

Julian looks at me and cracks a smile.  “Nothing I wouldn’t do again.”

Mazelinka dismisses it with a wave of her hand and returns to her pot.  She rolls a dry sprig of purple herb between her thumb and fingers, sniffing it and testing it with her tongue.

“Worrywort’s gone stale,” she _tsks_ to herself.  “I’ve got more in the garden.  Pardon me, Sevrina.”

Our host takes a knife from the counter and makes her way to the door, leaving us alone together.  Once she’s out of sight, Julian slumps against the counter, leaning heavily on one arm.

“Who would have thought a bite like that would take so much out of me?” he muses to himself. “Not to belittle your bite, mind you.  I’ve treated a few dozen, unfortunately… You’re the first to make it.  Well, you and I.”

His gaze is soft and weary.  Then he looks away.

“They’re not aggressive, the eels.  And they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the… the Count.”

The Count.  The murder.  A chill runs down my limbs, reminding me why we’re in hiding.   Julian is still, watching me carefully, gauging my reaction. 

“Why did you come back?” I whisper.  It doesn’t make sense—he escaped his death sentence.  Why would he return?

He is thrown by this question, as if it wasn’t the one he expected me to ask.  His gaze is intense, even through his weariness, as he studies me.

“I need answers,” he says simply.  “If I don’t find the truth here, I’ll lose my mind looking for it….”

My expression must show my concern, for his gaze softens again.

“Sweet Sevrina, don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright,” he says, trying to put me at ease.  I must not look convinced.  Tutting, he slides his bare hands along my neck to rest at the base of my scalp.  The sensation of his hands is welcome… I close my eyes to soak it in, yielding to the touch without reservation.  Despite the charges against him, I’m not frightened.

“As you know, I have some questions for your master,” he explains. I open my eyes to see his gaze travelling my face.  “If you knew the years… the…. The _distance_ I’ve gone to find him… Ah, what does it matter,” he whispers, drawing me nearer, “It’s not like there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.”

He leans toward me, slowly lowering his mouth to mine when we are interrupted again.

“Ilya, you’re barely on two feet!” Mazelinka scolds, breaking this moment of nearness as she comes back into the kitchen.  “When is the last time you slept?”

Julian shrugs and sighs with irritation. “Well, ever since the curse, I don’t really need it the way I used to, dear.”

Mazelinka laughs aloud.  “Says who?  Your eye is rolling, curse or no curse, you need to rest.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, to my feet.  It trails up to my face, and Mazelinka raises an impatient brow.

“I’m fine, really,” Julian protests.  “I… I haven’t felt this good in a while.”

She sighs and tosses a handful of spices into the cauldron, stirring and shaking her head.

“Ilya, I’m aware that you’re in very pretty company,” Mazelinka says in a mothering tone, a cheeky smile twitching up her lips, “And I will be very happy for you—after you’ve rested.  Go on.  Shoo.”

Julian, knowing he’s beat, sighs in agreement, “Just until the soup is done.”

His eye wanders my face slowly.  Fixated or exhausted, I’ll never know.

“Just until the soup is done?” Mazelinka chimes in teasingly, “Well?  Will you survive that long without her?”

Julian smiles, his cheeks flushing. 

“I’ll survive,” he mutters, then shuffles toward a nearby curtain after squeezing my fingers.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Sevrina.  I promise you’re in good company.”

He withdraws his hand from mine and pulls away, slipping out of sight behind the curtain.

I share a look with Mazelinka, who cracks her knuckles and smiles with a sigh.

“He won’t do it,” she explains, eyeing me with an expression I can’t comprehend.  “He’ll be pacing around unless someone pins him to the bed.  Sevrina, will you go and keep an eye on him, or shall I?”

She arches a teasing brow and watches me expectantly as she stirs the pot.

Was this an excuse to give us a few moments of privacy?

I smile awkwardly.  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

She smiles fully and laughs, showing her silver teeth, and gestures to the curtain.  I feel heat in my cheeks and ears, and I cross the room to the curtain and duck inside.

I find Julian seated on the edge of a simple bed.  He’s discarded his coat and shirt, exposing a handsome frame.  I smile slightly at the sight of the russet hair across his chest.  I look again to where the wound was on his side, and marvel at the effect of his curse.

He has taken off a boot and is tugging off the second.  He looks up and smiles wily at me.

“Did you come to tuck me in, Sevrina?” he says mischievously.  He drops the other boot and yawns.  “I won’t last long, I’m afraid.  She’s right.  I’m beat… If there’s one thing I know, it’s my own body.  When it comes to healing, it takes as long as it takes, whether I like it or not.  Isn’t it amazing?  Stab me in the back and I’ll walk it off, but healing will take everything I’ve got.  Can’t escape it.”

We’re startled apart by our host as she peeks past the curtain, bearing a steaming bowl.

“Drink this, Ilya.  Sevrina, will you be spending the night as well?”

She asks that question with a familiarity that throws me—as if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be here in her home.

Julian lifts the bowl to his lips and after tasting it, sputters into the brew, eyeing it wearily. 

“Oh, it’s _that_ kind of soup?”

Mazelinka chuckles.  “I won’t let you run yourself into the grave.  You’re still human, Ilya, curse or no curse.”

Julian mumbles in protest.  Having had enough, Mazelinka takes the bowl from him and places it in my hands.

“Sevrina, be a lamb and see that he drinks this?  I have a feeling he will take whatever you’re giving.”

Julian opens his mouth to protest but before he can, he yawns, and wipes at his eye.  Mazelinka pats me on the arm, smiling, and leaves us alone in the candlelight.

“She makes this soup when I can’t sleep,” Julian explains warmly.  “Even when I’m beyond stress, raving, beating my wings against the walls… I don’t know what she puts in it.”

I imagine I might know if I paid attention.  I peer into the bowl.  Julian licks the seam of his lips.

“And it tastes fantastic,” he admits with a snigger.

His gaze trails over my face, fixing dreamily on my mouth.  An invitation?  A distraction?  I don’t care which it is anymore, I can’t take it.  He watches my every move as I set the bowl aside and approach him.  I drop a knee onto the bed and lean over him.  I’m trembling.

“I can’t resist you any longer,” I breathe, scarcely believing my own actions as I wind my fingers into the auburn curls at the nape of his neck, and he lets out a soft, throaty murmur of satisfaction as I draw his lips to mine and finally, _finally_ we kiss.

Soft whimpering sounds form in his throat as the kiss deepens.  He opens his mouth to take in my teasing tongue and he reaches up to me with desperate hands that want to pull me closer.  His arms wrap around my back as his mouth returns my simple caress with ravenous hunger.  I tighten my hold on him and he groans. 

“Come here,” he pleads, tugging me down from above him, “Come closer…”

I’m drawn over him onto the bed, astride his hips, thrown off balance as my lips are devoured in a heated embrace.  His hands wander up and down my back before one settles on the curve of my bottom and the other at my nape, and though I desperately want this, the intensity suddenly overwhelms me.  I pull him back by his nape and he hisses through his teeth.

“What is it?  Too much?  Forgive me, Sevrina, I just… I’m sorry, I’ll be good…”

We’re locked a moment in intense eye contact, and he draws his hands away from my body to put them on either side of my face.  I bring my mouth to his again, and he gives me his eager kisses with more measure, at a pace that doesn’t overcome me.  I press my body into his as he lets his right hand caress up and down my back again, respectful of the boundary of my clothes, never pressing for more than he senses I’m wanting to give.  Our mutual hunger is aching, profound and frustrated.  I part from him a moment to look at his beautiful face.  We are both panting for breath.  His eager, flushed expression makes me want to tease him.

I press him onto his back.  I put a hand to his breastbone and he falls back without protest, biting his lip, eye closed.  I watch his chest heave as he waits for permission.

“I was told,” I say in a teasing whisper, “You would need to be pinned to the bed…”

He smiles.  “If it’s you doing the pinning, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s enough, you two!” Mazelinka calls in.  Embarrassed, I disentangle from Julian’s arms, sitting back on the bed and wiping my mouth.

Mazelinka comes in from the other room and throws a blanket over Julian’s flustered form.  Then she turns her eyes to me.

“I suppose you’ll be sharing the bed tonight?”

Julian is still flushed, trying to steady his breathing.  He leans back, his gaze still white-hot on me.

I nod stupidly.  “I’ll sleep with him,” I say.  Mazelinka barks with laughter and then shoots a look at Julian.

“Not to worry, dear, I’ll be an absolute gentleman,” he says with a winsome grin.

“Hold him to that, Sevrina,” Mazelinka says motheringly as she leaves us.

“Absolutely, hold me anyway you like, Sevrina,” Julian mutters mischievously.

"And get some sleep, already!” Mazelinka calls to him through the wall.

“That, I can’t promise,” Julian whispers teasingly.  He shifts over onto one side of the narrow mattress and splays his tall, gangling form artfully across it.

“Look at that, Sevrina, nice and spacious,” he says, raising a comical eyebrow as he tosses back the blanket and pats the space beside him to welcome me inside.  I feel almost jittery as I slide back into the bed beside him.  His arms go around me and he looks down over me and he caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers.

“I hope I’m not coming on too strong,” he whispers as we hold each other once again in intimate closeness.  “I’m very sorry if I overwhelmed you…”

“Shh,” I murmur, caressing his face.  “Do I look unhappy?”

He smiles sweetly and turns his head to kiss my palm.

“Oh, You’re so enthralling, Sevrina… I’d love to make something real with you… If we had more time…”

A bittersweet expression crosses his face as his thick, gorgeous curls fall across his brow.  I reach over to brush them away and he stiffens momentarily.

“Sevrina,” he sighs, then turns his head to press fully into the caress, eye closed in ecstasy. “You… Oh, if only... What am I saying?  Don’t mind me, I’m rambling… I must really be exhausted.”

His fingers go gently to my jaw and he draws me to meet his lips again, lingering as if he expects me to disappear.  When we part, he looks soulfully into my eyes.

“When I’m near you, I feel like I’ve been shot through the heart,” he mutters lowly.  “How do you do this to me?”

“The same way you do it to me, I suppose,” I whisper.

He smiles and draws his thumb lightly over my lips.  “You’re so dear to give me such a rich compliment… I am aghast that you should feel any kind of delight in my presence…”

His thumb moves away from my lips to make way for his.  I yield freely to the kiss.  His lips are soft this time.  Tender.  There is still a palpable hunger in his breath, but his gentleness doesn’t wane.  When we part, he looks down into my eyes with a quiet questioning hidden behind the soft smile that slowly turns up the corners of his beautiful lips.  I can think only about how much I desire him not just physically, but how I want so fiercely to know everything about him.

“Who would have thought I’d be so lucky as to share a bed for the night with the most beautiful woman in all of Vesuvia?” he whispers, his deft fingers twisting playfully in my hair.  “But I promised to be a gentleman, and I intend to live up to that promise.”

His eyes look ever heavier.  He supresses a yawn.

“You should rest,” I whisper, “Your body has been through a lot this evening.”

He smiles again.  “Yes, I suppose that would be sensible.  Just, in this moment, I can’t stand to take my eyes away from you.”

“I’ll still be here when you wake,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the feeling of warmth building inside me.  “I promise I will.”

“I’ll need to be satisfied with that, I suppose,” he whispers, then drops a last kiss to my mouth.  It’s a brief kiss, but it’s no less ardent.  When we part, he looks a little wobbly with exhaustion.

“Goodnight, Sevrina,” he sighs, and pulls away to lay back.  I turn to watch him, drinking in the image of his beautiful profile, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest…  It only takes a moment, but sleep appears to have won.  I reach out and extinguish the candle on the bedside table, then settle in to his side.  There, it feels safe, and it is easy to find sleep.


	8. The Chariot

I stir at the sound of a door shutting.  My head feels cloudy with sleep.  Julian is asleep beside me, muttering softly in the throes of a dream.  I get up quietly and step out to the kitchen to investigate the sound.  It seems Mazelinka must have left. 

Dawn is breaking outside.  I feel restless and sit at the table.  Those kisses last night, the burning in me, that obvious hunger in him.  The investigation.  The murder.  The questions.  What happens next?  How could I quell this desire?  Is the man I so fiercely want really a murderer?  How can I save him?

 _I’d love to make something real with you_ , he whispered. My heart flutters at the thought.

I want him.  Oh, Gods, I want him…

Suddenly, I hear his voice from the bedroom.

“No… please…”

I pause and listen.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry….”

Is he alright?

A loud thud sounds from the bedroom and I jump to my feet.  I don’t hesitate, and I pull the curtain back.

Julian is on the floor.  He drops his head back down and sighs, tangled in the sheet.  His face is ashen, beads of sweat on his brow, and when he sees me he tries to shake it off with a smile.

“Sevrina, oh…uh, did I wake you?  I’m sorry… I ah… I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I reach out to help him off the floor and assist in untangling the sheets from him.  I can feel the tension in his arms and shoulders as I help him steady himself.  He’s not quite meeting my gaze, like he thinks he can hide it from me.

“Are you alright?” I ask in an effort to comfort him. “It sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

“Did it?” he says flatly.  “That would be… Well, because I was.”

He slumps down onto the edge of the bed, and with his elbows on his knees, rests his head in his hands.

“Seems silly in the light of day, er…dawn.  It wasn’t real… Was it?  But you, Kitten—why were you out of bed?”

I shrug.  “I thought I heard a sound, and I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh?” he says, looking up.  “Lucky for you I have some experience in the field of insomnia.  Have you tried lying in bed consumed with guilt for every mistake you’ve ever made?  If that doesn’t work, you can try pacing and muttering to yourself.  Or feverishly writing letters you’ll never send.  Well, they won’t put you back to sleep, but you’ll pass the time.”

He pauses with a sardonic laugh at himself.  I try to bridge the gap between us, but though I can see the wanting in his eye, he remains distant.

“I wish we had more time,” he sighs, looking at me with a pleading eye. “But I’m just being selfish, aren’t I?”

He lies back down and throws one arm over his face, as if he can’t bear to look at me.

“Sevrina, do you believe in forgiveness?” he asks.

“Forgiveness?” I repeat, caught off guard. 

Where is this coming from?  Whatever he dreamed must really have him troubled.  He looks like a spring too tightly coiled—all tension points. In this moment, I’d give anything to relieve him of all the strain…

“Do you think even truly heinous things can be forgiven?” he continues, “Or are there some things you don’t get to come back from?  If I could just remember… then I would know if what I’ve done is something unforgiveable…”

“What will you do if you think it is?”

He furrows his brow.  “If I can’t make it right, I’ll accept the punishment I deserve without question, I suppose…”

He gives me a suffering look.  I can’t help but feel he’s directing this at me in particular.

“I’ll forgive you,” I whisper, trying again to bridge the space between us, to comfort him.

He shakes his head.  “You don’t even know what I’ve done.  That’s a hasty judgement, Sevrina.  Would you forgive me even if I hurt you deeply?  Irrevocably?  What if I hurt people you cared about?  Would you still forgive me, then?  What if I took everything from you, and then took more when it wasn’t enough?  Could you still forgive me, then?  Some things are unforgiveable... And I did something, otherwise, this pit of guilt in me… Gods, I just wish I knew what it was.  It’s the not knowing that keeps me up.  Well… and a thousand other things.  It doesn’t matter.”

His expression softens and he finally meets my gaze again.

“Thank you for listening… I’m sorry.”  He looks at me with sadness in his eyes, and then whispers, “Sevrina, why… Why are you so sweet to me?”

“Because I care,” I whisper.

He looks away again.  The distance between us is like a gulf I can’t cross.

Did I say the wrong thing?

Julian clears his throat then turns back to me with a smile like nothing’s wrong at all.

“Have you ever had cause to travel, Sevrina?” He asks softly.

I smile and shake my head.

“No, I’ve never travelled,” I reply.  “Tell me—What’s the world like outside of Vesuvia?”

Julian relaxes back against the wall at the head of the bed and gives me a tired smile.

“I’ve been all over—What do you want to hear about?  The pirate ships that plague the Frozen Sea?  Or maybe the Priestlords of Firent?  Ah, I could tell you tales of the floating city of Hjalle—well, maybe not that one.  It’s a little… compromising.”

I laugh as the mischievous twinkle in his eye reignites. 

“Where did you grow up?” I ask softly.

He smiles, and beckons me to his side, opening his arm to let me settle against his shoulder.

“I grew up in a little town south of here in the salt flats in Nevivon,” he says nostalgically.  “I’m sure you know Nevivon is known for its saltwater hot springs?  Healthiest bath you’ll ever take.  Great for the skin and all assortments of chronic pain and nervous ailments, too… I haven’t been back for a spell.  And since Pasha left, there’s not much reason to return…. Ah!  I know—How about the time I accidentally stole a pregnant war elephant?  As long as you promise to still respect me, after.”

  Laughing softly, we recline onto the mattress in a more restful position.  Julian’s arm is around my upper back and I settle in at his side, nestled in the crook of his shoulder, my fingers absently fiddling with his chest hair as he pulls the blanket up over us.  He launches into the story, petting my hair with idle fingers.  I feel like I belong here in his embrace.  He presses little kisses into my hair, and the comfort of his warm voice slowly lulls me back to sleep.

 

I wake to birdsong outside the window.  Julian’s not beside me.  I get up from the bed and head to the kitchen.  He isn’t there, either.  I suddenly feel anxious.  I’m alone in the house.

Did he slip away after I fell asleep?  Will he come back?

My heart sinks and I slip to a seat at the table.  Weren’t things going well?

Suddenly, Julian appears in the kitchen, fully dressed.  He looks surprised to see me there.

“Oh,” he mutters awkwardly, “You’re already up…”

He looks nervous and worries at his glove.

“You’ve got your coat on,” I say.

“Yes,” he says bluntly, “I was… going to head to the market to get breakfast.  Now that you’re up, I suppose we can go together.”

I nod, but something doesn’t feel right.

“Alright,” I say softly, rising from the seat at the table.  “Give me just a few minutes to gather myself together.”

He nods, but doesn’t move out of my way when I get up to pass back into the bedroom to gather my shoes.

“Listen, Sevrina.  We… we need to talk.”

I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.  Nothing good comes from that phrase.  I eye him warily. 

“Alright,” I say.

Julian seems taken aback.

“Not here,” he says sweetly.  “Let’s go to the market.  More places to talk.”

Julian looks out a shawl for me as I gather myself together, and once I’m ready, he leads me away from Mazelinka’s house, walking with me arm-in-arm.  But although he appears to be welcoming, jovial Julian, I can tell he is keeping himself a measured step away from me.  We walk together without speaking.  We walk through side streets, nearing the calls of street market hawkers looking to hook in a sale.

“Sevrina,” he finally says, “About that talk… Ah, wait. I nearly forgot.  First things first.  Mazelinka left a shopping list of things she needed picked up… Pickled tingleberry…. Charred newt flesh….Articulated goosewart… She uses them for her folk remedies.   Most effective pep-up soup I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of soup!”

I recognize those ingredients, but not for folk remedies.

“Does Mazelinka practice magic? Those are spell ingredients.”

Julian looks taken aback.  “What?  Those things?  Nonsense.  They’re ingredients for medicines.  Effective ones, too.”

I shake my head as I peek at the list.  “These are definitely magical.  I keep some of these at the shop.”

Julian sneers in disagreement.  “It’s not magic.  Nobody chanted nonsense from a fancy but ominous tome.  There were no glowing circles or weird runes.  No one bled.”

I can scarcely believe my ears.  Is that what he thinks magic is?  He looks distinctly uncomfortably with the prospect of Mazelinka casting magic.

“Does magic bother you?” I ask defensively.

Julian suddenly flushes pink, as if he remembers I’m a magician.

“I…. err… of course not,” he mutters, “It’s just… I don’t understand it.  I never have.  But the remedies, I understand.  Chemical reactions.  Science.  You mix things together.  Chop them up, they work.  Or they don’t, and you try something different.”

I nod.  “It might not be this way for everyone, but for me, magic is the same.  Some things work, some don’t, but you keep trying until you solve it.”

Julian nods, suddenly racking his brain.  “I’ve heard that somewhere before,” he says.  “Ah, it doesn’t matter.  Look at you, knowing things.  And me, all I know is that I _don’t_ know.”  After a pause, he looks at me bittersweetly.  “Sevrina, about that talk…”

Suddenly we’re interrupted by a vendor calling to us.

“Jules, is that you?  Ain’t seen you in the city for years, you old dog!  What are you doing here?”

Julian smiles as he recognises the hawker. 

“Tilde! Ha!  So good to see you!  How’s the wife? Still having those headaches?”

The woman who called out to us scoffs, waving her hand vaguely as she shoulders her leech sack.

“She’s doing fine!  Still talking about moving to Prakra, but there’s no leech market there!”

Julian waves to her and takes me by the hand, pulling me further into the crowd.  Merchants and shoppers alike continue to call out to him with warm familiarity.  He tries to start up this _talk_ with me a few more times, but always interruptions. 

“I hadn’t counted on it being so busy here today,” he says, and just then I’m knocked off my balance by a passing ragamuffin.  I fall backwards toward a rickety fruit cart, but Julian dives behind me to break my fall. He hits the ground with a grunt.

“Ooft…Sevrina, are you alright?” 

Then the cart starts to wobble.

“Shit,” Julian sighs as the fruit begins to dislodge.  He surrounds me from all sides somehow as the cart breaks apart, blocking the blow of it from hitting me with his body.  He lets out another pained grunt.

“Are you alright?” he asks urgently, “Nothing’s hit you, has it?”

He pulls me to my feet and dusts me off, fussing more than he seems to realize.  After he’s assured I’m alright, he examines the damage.

“Well, what a mess… It looks like I’m buying a fruit stand today…”

He rummages through his cloak and pulls out a nondescript bag from his person.  It jangles.  He looks up to the very irritated vendor.

“Do you take Galbradine dubloons?” He asks, “Or Hjallen drakr?”

He pours out a pile of foreign currency into the vendor’s unbelieving hands.  He must be carrying a small fortune.  After a moment or two counting coins for the vendor, he turns to the crowd and shouts, “That’s settled—free fruit!  Come and get your free fruit, everyone!”

A crowd quickly descends upon the bruised fruit, and soon there is no trace of the accident.  Julian takes my hand and pulls me from the throng and into a side street, then begins to check me over for injuries.

“Julian, I’m fine,” I laugh as he fusses.  “I’m not hurt, you’ve taken the full brunt of it, I ought to be looking you over instead!”

He helps me to straighten my tunic and shawl, which have been pulled crooked in the tumble.  My scars show at the neckline since the garment’s been pulled askew.  Julian notices them.

“Sevrina,” he whispers sadly as he reaches to gingerly touch them, “What’s this?”

I tug my neckline back into place and my smile fades.  “It’s nothing,” I whisper, sweeping my hair over my shoulders again to ensure extra cover.  “Nothing at all.  Just… I was burned once…”

“Forgive me,” he says, and purses his lips.

“It’s alright,” I mutter, and I make a dismissive gesture.  He understands I don’t want to talk about it, and he changes the subject away from my accident.

“I should have mentioned it can get rowdy here when it’s busy,” he says apologetically, taking my hand tenderly.  “I’m sorry about the scene back there… I’ll get Mazelinka’s shopping tomorrow.  Let me make it up to you—I know a place that is sure to impress you—a nice little teahouse, just down the way.  We can sit there and… talk.  It’s very comfortable.  You’ll like it.”

I nod, and he leads me away from the market, my hand still clasped in his.

 

After a leisurely stroll, Julian’s eye lights up and he motions toward a tall, narrow building.  It’s stylish and weather-beaten, and I notice it has no windows.  There are also no discernible doors, only panels of fresco with illustrations of faded romances… This must be the place.

“I used to come here all the time,” he sighs wistfully, “Back in the day, it was an irresistible spot.  High ceilings, great ambiance, little booths tucked away.  Very intimate.  And underground.  You could lounge here for hours.  It was a great place to come to think, and a good place to talk.  And we… We do need to talk.”

We duck under the shadow of a groaning, rotted beam, down a meandering stairwell to an underground level.

 _We do need to talk._   Each time he says it, I dread it more.  I eye him warily as he yanks a stubborn iron door open for me, and wrapping an arm around my waist, ushers me in.

“After you, my Dear,” he whispers.

My eyes take a moment to adjust from the bright afternoon sun to the dimness inside.  There are faded fabrics in bold colours hanging at angles from the ceiling.  A slim walkway runs through a maze of dusty, dramatic curio.  Julian peers tentatively around every corner. We both hear voices, though we haven’t found anyone yet.  Julian peers at me.

“This isn’t at all how I remember it,” he says with obvious disappointment.  “Such a shame… the business must have gone under.  They used to serve this gorgeous smoky tea which I haven’t been able to find since…”

I follow him through the close corridor, studying the wide array of objects around us.  Weaponry, clothing, huge bolts of fabric, and far too much else to list.  Julian is also trying to decipher our surroundings.

“An oddities emporium?” he suggests.  “Antiques, maybe?”  He draws nearer to me and puts a hand on my hip.  “It’s still somehow cosy, though.”

I feel that warmth coming from him again, the warmth I haven’t be able to reach since the night before.  He seems to feel it too as his gaze lingers over my lips.  After a moment, he shakes his head, and then the coolness, the gulf returns, and he pulls away.  His eye shifts, looking for something else to look at.  Something catches his attention.

“Well now,” he says, reaching for a doctor’s mask that somehow resembles his own. He examines it, turning it in his hands.  “Hmm.  Not really a medical mask, is it?  We used to stuff the beak with herbs, camphor, roses… I think this one’s a statement piece.”

He chuckles and pauses over it.

“Do you want to put it on?” I ask with a laugh.

He starts at the question, and then arches a teasing eyebrow at me.

“Are you suggesting I miss the one I tossed to the eels?  Let me just tell you how much it pains me that you caught me doing that…” he caresses the mask with careful detachment, then chuckles.  “Maybe I _will_ put it on.”

I indulge him with a nod and a smile.  He fastens the mask about his head and laughs.

“Who would have thought someone would wear something like this for the aesthetic?  I may not have contributed much to the world of medicine, but turns out I was making waves in the world of fashion!  How does it look?”

I give a winsome smile.  “Mysterious… Handsome. Though, I’ve never seen anyone wearing one in the streets…”

The lines of the mask draw my eye to his mouth and suddenly I’m dying to kiss those lips again, how he heated me all through last night… Absently, I tilt my head as I imagine approaching him and touching my mouth to his.  My desire must be easy to read in my expression.

“You’re wondering if it would be difficult to kiss with one of these in the way?” he asks, then adds with a laugh, “Imagine kissing with two of them.”

He chuckles indulgently and I watch his beautiful throat move.  I am drawn in to him, and unable to resist.  I plant an insistent kiss on is neck, just under his ear.

His laughter dies down but the grin on his face lingers and one of his hands comes to cradle the back of my head.

“You’re so precious,” he mutters softly, “I might just melt if I spend any more time with you…”

He leans against the wall, drawing me in to rest my hands on his chest. As I brush my lips along his neck, he tilts his head back, yielding to the sensation and curls his gentle fingers into my hair.  He holds me close and as my breath ghosts over the swell in his throat, his skin prickles with gooseflesh.  He draws one hand up to his throat, taking my attention to the long muscle behind his ear, and I kiss his jaw, my lips and nose running over his coarse russet sideburns, taking in the scent of his hair.

“My Gods, you tantalize me,” I whisper into his ear, igniting a low laugh in him.  “You _torment_ me, Julian…”

“ _O, ya khochu tebya_ ,” he breathes.

I feel my heart rushing forward as he wraps his arm around my back, drawing me in.

“You’re so gentle,” he whispers throatily, “But you needn’t be if you don’t want to be…. I should be punished if I provoke you so…”

His other hand guides my head to lock my mouth to his.  The kiss lingers, my heart feels ready to burst and my insides feel warmer and warmer the longer it lasts. His breath, like mine, has gone shallow, and I’m pressed so tightly to him that I can feel his member swell with desire against my thigh.  His lips move against mine as if it frustrates him to part, but he pulls back from me with a reluctant huff escaping him when we do.

“Oh, sweet Sevrina…” he sighs throatily.

“Yes?” I murmur softly, still breathless.

The tip of his tongue peeks out of his mouth to taste his lips.  He runs his thumb over my lips as he does.

“Yes, sweet Sevrina… you are too sweet by far…”

I flush.  His fingers move fondly to curl under my chin.

“Too sweet?” I say mischievously.

He sighs.  I press him back onto a table covered in bolts of fabric and draw close to him again and let my teeth graze the pallid skin of his neck experimentally.  His breath catches.  His arms surround me and I dig in a little deeper, teasing, just enough to cause the sensation of a delicious kind of pain without causing him harm.

“Ooh,” he moans softly, his hands wandering my back desperately, “That…. Oh, I love it… Here… Do it here… Please…”

He moves the collar of his jacket and I scrape my canines along the muscle in his neck he drew me to moments ago.  My mouth wanders down to his collar bone and then up again to the base of his jaw, alternating between lips and nipping bites. His hand travels down my back and takes hold of the curve of my backside as the other caresses the nape of my neck. He gasps as I take the lobe of his ear between my teasing teeth.

“If you’re worried about marking me, don’t be,” he sighs, “There’s no need to hold back… The curse won’t let any mark stay long… A shame, really… I’d love something to remember you by…”

I pull away.

“Something to remember me by?”

“Did I say that?”

I can’t see his expression under the mask.  I feel suddenly as if he’s using it to hide from me.  I reach up to the back of his head and untie it.

“Is something wrong?” he mutters.

“Is it wrong that I want to see your face?”

He swallows hard and exhales.  “No.  Nothing’s wrong with that.”

One hand at the back of my head, he wraps the other arm around my shoulders and draws me back into a kiss.  It’s easier this way, without the mask impeding.  His mouth is artful, explorative, and his kisses are deep.  I feel like something is blossoming in my chest.  I can feel him laughing lowly against me and he parts our mouths to explain.

“The masks look strange on me, anyway….  Shame on me, letting something so unpleasant come between us…”

A look crosses his face and he pulls away from me.  I wonder why, when suddenly a miserable wail rips through the air.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

Taken aback, I nod.  “Of course I did.”

He snatches the mask out of my hands and places it on his face again.

“Humour me and stay close,” he whispers.

He holds up a finger to his lips, indicating the need to keep quiet, and takes my hand in his.  Carefully, we follow the sound of the mournful wailing, bowing under feather boas, stepping over empty bottles.  A set of heavy velvet curtains hangs before us, parted only by a thin sliver of red light.  Just beyond is the source of the wailing, heaving beside a shredded daybed under a tinted spotlight.

We’re in a theatre.

It’s an actor, dressed in sheer scarlet robes, wearing a porcelain half mask of mascara-streaked anguish.

“Wait up in my room?  On _my_ birthday?” he wails comically in front of an amused audience. He continues to throw a tantrum and suddenly an air of understanding washes over Julian, who is smiling broadly.

“Oh my Gods,” he laughs, just above a whisper, “That’s fantastic—it sounds just like him!”

“Like who?” I ask.

“Count Lucio!” Julian sniggers.

We have come in the back way to a dramatic re-enactment, and by the sounds of things, Lucio wasn’t given a flattering part.  The theatre is packed to the rafters.  Even in death, making fun of him seems popular in this part of town.

“Well, I’m glad to see the arts are flourishing,” Julian laughs to me.  “But if this is Lucio on his birthday night, you don’t suppose this show is about the murde—“

A couple of things happen at once, as the audience laughs.  A sandbag drops, the curtain starts to close.  At the same time, Julian’s ankle is snagged by a moving rope.  It drags him off his feet and into mid-air.  When I can bear to look again, he’s suspended upside-down over the actor onstage, too stunned to do anything but hang for a beat.  Then, wriggling like a worm on a hook, he knocks something free from his boot into his hand.

A knife.

Grunting, he swings up at the torso and grabs hold of the rope around his ankle.  He manages to sever it, and then falls, splayed and groaning in the actor’s silky lap.

“Doctor Devorak!” calls the actor dressed as Lucio, “Here to cure my boredom!”

His improvisational skills are quick as lightening.  The audience begins to shriek with laughter and applause.  Julian swallows visibly.  I’m stunned and frozen to the spot. I can do nothing but watch him improvise.

He looks from the crowd and back to the actor in Lucio’s mask.  I know he is going to go for it.  With a bark of sharp laughter, he rises up, looming over the effigy Count.

“Hello, my poor, poor patient!” he shouts menacingly, “The clock strikes thirteen for you, tonight!”

Julian snaps his gloves and the actor falls back, gasping.

“I’ve come to end your suffering, dear Count! Enjoy that gasp—It will be your last!”

“What are you going to do?” wails the actor, “Smother me with your thighs?”

Julian puts on an affected, exasperated air.

“For the hundredth time, no!” He shouts, and the audience bursts into laughter.  They tussle on the daybed, feathers flying.  The audience is in stitches, and I can’t help but laugh to myself.

After some hair pulling, the actor rears back and draws a wobbly sword from behind the bed, assuming a fighting stance.

“Give me a real fight, man on man!” he shouts, “We’ll see who takes their last gasp!”

“If it’s a fight you want, it’s a—Oh.”

A stagehand emerges to present Julian with another sword and scampers back out of sight offstage.

“Uh… it’s a fight you’ll get!  En garde!”

Wobbly sounds resound as the two of them stage-fight, and the audience goes wild.  The sword falls from the grasp of Lucio’s likeness, and Julian towers over him with is boot on his chest.

“What is it you want, Doctor?  Money?  Goods?  Jewels?  I’ve always liked you…” The actor pleads.

“This may surprise you,” Julian says, “But some of us don’t kill for the money.  Some of us kill to make up for not doing it sooner!”

Julian artfully brings the sword down beside the actor’s throat, and he gurgles and flails before he goes convincingly limp.  Julian steps back, looking a little green.

“Oh.  Well… That was… Easier than I thought it would be…!  Now I… Now what?  I can’t just go unpunished—I have to pay for this!”

The stagehand shouts “Guards!  Hang him!”

“But not like that!” shouts Julian, who whirls his cloak dramatically, and runs off stage. 

I sneak back the way we came in, hoping that Julian will be outside when I get there.  When I return to the bright afternoon light, I sigh and let my back hit the wall.  It surprises me there would be such an audience watching something like that… But where is Julian?  Should I wait?  Should I go back in?  It takes me a minute to figure out what to do, then suddenly Julian is at my side.

“There you are!” He heaves, “What a trip!”  He is laughing but it isn’t completely convincing.  He seems a little distraught.

“Julian,” I whisper, looking him over and smoothing out his rumpled cloak.  “Oh, thank the Gods…”

“Well, no one seemed to think it was really me,” he says with satisfaction.  “So that’s good, at least.”

“Are you alright?” I ask, taking his face in my hands and looking into his eye.  “The fall didn’t hurt you?”

My pulse is still racing.  One look at my face and his grin falters.

“I’m quite alright, Dearest,” he says softly, “There is nothing to worry about.”

I look at him intensely, my hands going to the side of his face, and silently will him to kiss me again.  Instead, his hands take mine and press them lightly to his chest.

“So that wasn’t what I had in mind,” he sighs after a moment.  “Let me try this again.”

“Try what again?” I whisper softly.

He looks deeply, forlornly into my eyes, and then I remember the talk he wants to have….

“Sevrina, I’d like to head over to the Raven for something to eat,” he says sweetly. “Would you be so forgiving as to join me?  My treat, of course.  And after that… A nice walk down to the docks—How does that sound?”

A meal sounds very agreeable.  And I’m curious…If this means he’ll finally tell me what’s on his mind, I’m in.

 

Julian walks a step ahead of me in the sand.  This tension has been building between us all day, and has amplified on the quiet on the walk between the tavern and the docks.  Now, all around us is silence, except for the sound of the breaking waves at the pier.

Finally, Julian opens his mouth to speak and stares out over the sea.  He looks exceedingly unhappy.

“Feel that breeze,” he says, “A nice night for sailing, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, realizing the inane path this will take our conversation on.  He looks to his feet.

“Sevrina, listen,” he sighs, unable to meet my gaze. “We really do need to talk….  We’ve needed to talk all day, but I was being selfish, enjoying myself too much to take the plunge.”

“I enjoyed the day, too,” I say, trying to put him at ease again.  “I haven’t seen much of Vesuvia outside of my own neighbourhood… the people here seem to really love you.”

“They’re good people.  Hard working, dedicated,” He says, “But covering for me is putting them in danger.  I hate to think of anyone getting hurt because of my mess.  I don’t want to entangle anyone in it, least of all you.”

“Julian, what’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly feeling a pit of dread in my stomach.

“Lots of things,” he says. “Too many to count.  Give me a number and I’ll tell you it’s too low….. I’ve done the calculations, thought of every possibility, run through the scenario in my head over and over.  There’s only one way I can see this whole thing playing out, and it’s not a happy ending.  Trust me.”

He pauses.  My eyes are beginning to sting with the threat of tears.

“Isn’t it best to cut things off at the pass?” he asks beseechingly, “To spare you the trouble of a tragic ending?”

He still won’t look at me.  If anything, he looks as if he wants to run away.

I think back to this morning, waking with Julian gone.  The empty ache in my chest…

“You weren’t going to get breakfast this morning, were you?” I say, still managing to hold in my emotions which are threatening to shatter through at any moment.

He sighs heavily.  “No.  No I wasn’t….I may have panicked a bit.  I would never have just left you, though.  Even if I wanted to.”  He pauses again, and passes a hand over his head.  “I don’t.  I don’t want to leave, that is.  But I just don’t see how else this can go.”

Julian drops down to sit at the edge of the pier, his feet dangling over the water.  I sit next to him, near enough that our shoulders bump together. He leans toward my touch, as if he craves it.

After a quiet moment, he lifts his hand and points to an island, black against the night sky on the water’s horizon.

“See that island?” He says sadly.  “It’s called the Lazaret.  It’s where the city sent their infected during the height of the plague.  A perfect monument to my failures, always visible from the shore, always reminding the city how much it suffered.  Every death, each body burnt in those pits, just a searing reminder of a prolonged pain that can’t be recovered from.  And the thought of it brings me more pain than I can put into words.”

Finally, he manages to sheepishly meet my gaze.

“I don’t want to drag this out, Sevrina.  This… whatever it was or could have been, and prolong your suffering before the inevitable hurt.  I will only be your Lazaret.  It has to end before it’s too late for you.  I’m only going to end up hurting you somehow, I know it.”

My tears finally bubble over.  I don’t believe that’s the only way for it to end. 

“You won’t hurt me,” I whimper pleadingly.

“Oh, my sweet Sevrina,” he sighs, taking hold of my hand.  “Darling, you are too kind.  But I will absolutely hurt you.  It’s only a matter of time.  It’s what I do.  It’s what I’ve always done.  I will be the first to admit my faults, and there are many….  I lose myself... Or maybe this is the real me:  Someone who hurts people.  A useless failure.”

There is another pause and he reaches out to wipe my tears from my cheeks.

“Sevrina… I don’t know if I killed the count, but I know I could well have.  I know I have that darkness inside me.  Isn’t that enough to damn me?”

My hot tears keep falling in my frustration.  None of these reasons have anything to do with our relationship. _I’m dangerous.  I’ll hurt you.  I don’t know what I’ve done.  You deserve better._   None of them tell me how he feels about me.  I know it hasn’t been long, but…

“Julian, do you want me?” I manage to squeeze out.

He starts at the question.

“I—what?  Did you… I must have misheard you, Sevrina.”

I try to make him meet my gaze again.

“I asked you if you want me.  I want to know.”

He sighs.  “Then I didn’t mishear you…That’s a strange question to ask when I’m ending this relationship, isn’t it? If we can even call it a relationship, this night or two of stolen time…”

He swallows hard.  His body posture is full of tension, anxiety, and shame.

“Please, I want to know,” I breathe.  “I _need_ to know… Do you want me, Julian?”

“Do I want you?” he mutters.  “Do I want you?  That’s a tough question to answer… I want you to be safe.  I want you to stay out of this whole mess.  I want… Sevrina, it doesn’t matter what I want.”

I shake my head.  “No, you can’t do that.  You didn’t answer my question.  Tell me.”

He can’t resist smiling.  “Tenacious, aren’t you?  It’s one of the things I like about you.  No matter what happens, you keep moving forward.  You’re like this great, bright light, drawing me towards you.  I just can’t help myself.  If I was a stronger man… If I wasn’t so weak….”

He bites his bottom lip, looking defeated.  He barely looks at me when he admits it, softly…

“Yes, I want you.”

I heave a heavy exhale.

“Oh, how could I not want you, Sevrina?” He continues breathlessly, “I want you and it terrifies me.  It’s all-consuming.  There’s no place I can run from my longing for you… I know it’s only been a short time, but I feel like I’ve known you for years….  Is it because you put me at ease?  That’s difficult to do, you know.  I want to be around you.  I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re not there.  That’s the problem.  I’m torn in two, Sevrina.  My brain is telling me to leave and keep you safe, but my heart… Gods, my heart wants nothing except to keep you close….”

He cranes his head up to the luminous moon, and sighs, closing his eye.  His expression is emotional.

“If I think about it,” he says, just above a whisper, “I can see the path our story would take.  So why…?”

He slumps down, as if he is trying to hide himself from me.

“If I walk away from you now, will I stay away?” he asks himself aloud.  “If I drop my guard, will I find myself walking right back to you?  That’s what makes me selfish, because whatever we could have, whatever possibilities, they’ll only lead to ruin.  That’s the kind of man I am.  There’s no future for us that doesn’t end in pain for you, and I don’t want that for either of us, Sevrina… I couldn’t bear to do that to you.”

The pit in my stomach just keeps feeling wider.

“Forget about the future just for a moment,” I breathe.  “You’re here, I’m here.  We’re together, at this moment, under the same moon, and…”

“Can I be that selfish?” He breathes.

“Do you want to be?” I ask.

He looks at me for a moment and sighs his reply urgently.

“Gods, yes…”

He reaches over to me and pulls me close to him.  Our lips brush each other once, light and fleeting.   Then again, steadier.  His hands tremble as they grip my tunic, one hand sliding to press against the back of my neck and draw me deeper into the embrace.  He pulls back and gives me a suffering look.

“One more,” he heaves.

Our lips meet once more.  Julian makes a muffled noise against me, mouth parting as a shiver runs through him.

“That’s the last one,” he sighs, and then presses up again and again, each time a whispered _one more_ , a promise that kiss is the last, and each time he comes back a little more desperate than before, his touch a little needier.  He doesn’t want to let go, and neither do I, but eventually one of us has to part for air.  Julian swallows hard, eyes staring past me to some distant point.  He looks desperately sad.

“You,” he sighs emotionally, looking into my eyes again, “Being with you is the first thing I’ve wanted for myself in a very long time.”

“I want you, too,” I whisper.

“Oh, Sevrina,” he murmurs, caressing my cheek, “What about me could ever be worthy of that quickening heartbeat of yours?  What miracle makes you want me?”

“I feel… I feel bonded to you,” I whisper.  “It’s inexplicable.  My head has spun with the image of your face since I met you…. I’m a haunted woman…”

“I’m haunted too,” he whispers, then kisses me again and again, until he finally manages to pull away.

“Oh no, I can’t do this to you,” he groans, trying to steel his resolve.  “I can give you no future…”

We stare at one another for an unbearable moment.

“What future do you _want_ , Julian?”

He shakes his head.  “I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Can’t you see anything else?” I plead.  “Or is it all just… tragedy?”

He sighs heavily again.

“Tragedy is what I’m best at, Sevrina.  I’m the star of my own one-man play.  It’s what will happen in this world.  We don’t get what we want.  Why waste time imagining something you can never have?  I don’t dare hope.  It just makes it hurt more when you don’t get it.”

I reach out to take his hand.  He doesn’t withdraw it from my grasp.

“Try,” I say.  “For me.”

A bark of laughter, but no mirth.  Julian stares over the dark horizon, his lips curled back.

“What do you want to hear from me, Sevrina?” he says, his voice now shaking, “That I want…That I want a future?  That… That I want it with you?  That I want to _live_?”

Julian suddenly gets to his feet and begins pacing, shaking his head.  His step on the pier makes the old wood creak.  I follow him, unsure whether I should reach out.  Is comforting him even possible?

“Oh, I can see it when I close my eye,” he says, now visibly emotional, “Warm laughter, light hearts, never a dull night.  Days spent with friends, Pasha never having reason to cry again.  You, waking dreamily in my arms, rubbing your bleary eyes after nights of unbridled passion. You petting my hair when the nightmares wind so tight around me I feel like I’ll suffocate.  Love.  A home.  Happiness.  Things we’ll never have.  So it goes…. But you’ll survive, Sevrina.  You were fine before I got here.  You’ll be fine after I’ve left.  Some other man will come along in time and sweep you off your feet like I’d never be able to—he’ll give you all of those things and more, and you’ll think back to this night and wonder what could have made you want anything to do with a lowlife like me.”

Julian shakes his head and swallows hard, as if he can’t cast off the dark thoughts which plague him.

“And I will know these few stolen nights with you as the happiest of memories, the chance to bask in the light that burns from the centre of you for those few fleeting moments… The sweetness of your deep kisses, your thrilling laugh, and I will be happy in knowing that I did not cast a shadow over that light in you, that I did the right thing and let you go rather than hold you so close to my greedy heart that I’d extinguish that light and ruin your life…”

He passes a hand over his hair and manages to collect himself.

“I’ll walk you home,” he whispers.

Julian slides his hands in his pockets and leads me from the beach back into town.  Every so often, he opens his mouth to say something, then makes a face and closes it again.  Eventually we reach the shop, and Julian turns toward me with a note of finality in his voice.

“Well, here we are, at your shop,” he says sadly.  “End of the line.”

We stand together in a moment of awkward silence, and finally he is brave enough to look into my eyes.

“When I came back to Vesuvia, I was seeking answers,” he explains.  “Finding you?  That was a rare treat…  Oh Sevrina, I want to say that I’m wrong, but I’m not… I’m a threat to you.  I’m a wanted man, and an ignorant one at that… I don’t know anything about how to be what you deserve…”

He reaches out, his hand hovering over my shoulder as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch me anymore.  Then he shakes his head and leans forward to press a kiss to each of my cheeks, his lips lingering just a second longer.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says sadly.  “I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m not… I am not sorry at all for the wondrous respite of happiness you’ve given me… The time we spent together, however brief… It mattered to me.  I won’t forget it.”

With a whirl of his cloak, he’s gone, footsteps echoing down the side street and fading away.

I sigh and my chin quivers.  I turn and enter the shop, feeling helpless.  It smells like cinnamon inside, a trail of steam wafting down from upstairs.  The lanterns are lit, casting the shop in a warm, flickering light.  Asra pokes his fluffy head down the stairwell, grinning brightly when he sees me standing there.

“Back from your jaunt at the palace?” He calls out warmly, coming down to meet me. “Welcome home, Sevrina.”

He stops when he sees my expression and my red eyes.  The corners of his mouth turn down.

“Sister, are you alright?” He says with concern, “What happened?”

“Julian left me,” I squeak out.

Asra’s face drops.  “What?  You two were…?”

He stops talking when fresh tears burn down my cheeks.  The anger melts away from his face and gives way to concern.  He opens his arms to me. I fly in to his comforting embrace, weeping fully.

“Hush now, my Sister, please don’t cry,” he says comfortingly as he strokes my hair.  “I was out today and bought that blooming tea you like.  Come upstairs and have some, and we can talk about it.”

I nod.  My thoughts are with Julian, wondering if he feels as irreparably lonely as I do, even with Asra here.  Will Mazelinka help him?  Can Portia do anything for him?  He shouldn’t have to face this darkness alone.

I follow Asra up the stairs, settling down at our rickety kitchen table and I let out a deep sigh.  Faust is sitting on the table top, and she coils around one of the hot mugs Asra sets down, looking very pleased.

Asra sits across from me and gives me his full attention.

“So, what happened?” he asks.

The story spills out of me like a dam bursting, until I’ve told Asra every detail. When I finish, he leans back in his chair, running his thumb over the rim of his mug absentmindedly.

“That sounds like Ilya… he took an entire day to end it?”  He asks.  “Were you two…. Even really together?”

I shrug.  “I don’t really know, but it felt perfect… it felt right… I bonded to him, and I believe he bonded to me… I know it was short, but I feel I’ve known him for years... my heart is breaking….”

Asra shakes his head and sighs.  “Oh, Sevrina… The only thing he loves more than drama is his own suffering, and he’s determined to chase both.”

I shake my head in disagreement.  “That’s not true.”

Asra starts.  “Isn’t it?  It’s easy to forget when you’re around him… He fills the room with excitement, makes you feel special, and then he finds some way to sabotage it.  I’ve seen him do this before.  I’ve never met someone as dedicated to their own unhappiness as Ilya.”

“Doesn’t he deserve to be happy?” I wonder aloud.

Asra’s warm eyes look at me with concern.  “Don’t _you_?”  He sighs and reaches a friendly hand out to me.  “Sevrina, I can’t tell you what to do.  You’re your own person, but please, _please_ be careful with him.  He is extremely selfish and he doesn’t mind seeing people under the heel of his boot it gets him what he wants out of life.  He’s hurt you this early on, and he will keep hurting you if he comes back.  I’ve seen it with my own eyes.  Hurting you tonight instead of stringing you along is probably all he’s capable of in the way of kindness and feeling.”

I run my finger over the rim of my mug and say nothing.  I can’t believe what Asra says is the truth about Julian... Asra’s my friend, my Brother… he’s protective, and he’s upset that I’m upset.

My quietness encourages him to change the subject.

“Do you still have the deck I left you?” he asks.

I nod, pulling the cards from my hip bag.  They seem excited to be near Asra again, like they missed him.  He passes his hand over them, and when he moves again, they’ve vanished from the table.  Tension ebbs from his shoulders, some shadow easing from his eyes.  He looks relieved.

“You… You’re alright, right?” he asks.  “Nothing strange happened with the deck?”

He shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes, and clears his thoughts.

“You’re home,” he says warmly, “I’ll make us something to eat.”

Asra slides languidly to his feet and starts to clink around in the kitchen, humming idly to himself.  I stare down at the mug cupped between my hands, left alone with my swirling thoughts.

Whatever happened today, whatever will happen tomorrow, however this whole story plays out… Somehow I know this isn’t the end of Julian and I.

Asra makes soup to help me sleep.  It is difficult to drink it down but I press through the thought of Julian’s bedtime meal the night he rescued me, and take it thankfully. We are both very quiet, but once my bowl is empty, Asra encourages me to get to my bed to make the most of the soup’s sedating effect.  I’m already feeling drowsy, I and I do so without protest.  He puts a comforting hand on my arm as I pass, stopping me in my tracks.

“Remember, Sevrina, there is a reason for everything.  I’m sorry you’re hurting, but I know you will be fine in time.  But for now, rest well, Sister.”

I thank Asra and kiss him goodnight on the cheek.  I go to my room and undress, leaving my clothes in an untidy pile on the floor.  I slip into a night shift and curl up into my pillow, doing my best to send my drowsy magic to Julian, wherever he is, to keep him safe in this time of his self-loathing…


	9. Strength

I dream of Julian all through the night.  Visions of him placing a peony behind my ear with his deft, gentle fingers, visions of him lying on a blanket in the grass of the palace gardens beside me, caressing my cheek and troat with a pale, pink blossom, telling me how he’ll take me sailing someday...   I wake reaching for him only to have to face my chagrin face on once more.  I decide it best not to stay in bed with my sorrow all day, and sluggishly drag myself from my pillow to the bath.  Feeling a bit better for wear after my wash, I dress and comb out my hair, and then go to my altar to burn my morning sage, sending my protective magic out, and hoping it will reach him.

A loud knock from the front door interrupts my morning ritual, and I get to my feet and head down the stairs.  I’m hoping it’s Julian, but I know in my heart that it isn’t.  It’s still early, and we haven’t been open for the past few days…  Asra is nowhere to be seen, but that’s not unusual.  He’s often gone before I wake up.

A voice calls to me from behind the door before I can get to it. 

“Sevrina, are you home?  It’s Portia—we really need to talk!”

My stomach drops.  What is she doing here?  Did something happen with Julian?

I open the door hurriedly and move aside to let her in.

“There you are,” She says, and takes my hands warmly.  “Oh, I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

Her eyes wander around the room as we part.  She is amazed by all of the stacks of things on shelves, the mysterious curtains to the fortune telling rooms, and the smell of exotic oils and incenses.

“Oh, goodness—Look at this place!”

Portia peers down at a crystal ball, fingers hovering just above it as if she fears how it might react to her touch, and then pulls away quickly.  Then her eye is caught by a shelf of herbs and she moves to examine them.  When she was here before, her focus was entirely on her brother—she didn’t get any kind of look around.

Trying to overcome the pit in my stomach, I decide to be brave.

“Portia, you said we need to talk?”

She snaps back to her purpose as I say this. 

“Oh! Sorry, Sevrina,” she says, as if she can’t believe it’s slipped her mind.  “You’re right…. Milady wanted me to come and check up on you, and… um, see how you were doing in the investigation….You know, with Ily—Julian.”

Her smile fades like it was never there.

“I’m working on it,” I sigh.  I know they’re family, but if Portia is here on behalf of the Countess, it’s wiser to stay silent.  Portia stares at me for a long moment, wringing her hands in her sash.

“Really?”  She says with pleading eyes, “Have you… made any progress?”

“I think so.”

“And did you…find him?”

I sigh and clear my throat to keep back the stinging tears in my eyes.

“Well…. That depends, I guess, on your definition of _find._ ”

Portia measures her response.  “I… see….”  And then she sighs, dropping all air of formality.  “Look, Sevrina.  You know I saw you with him outside this shop a few days ago.  And you know he’s my brother.  It seems like neither one of us is in a rush to turn him in.  If Milady catches him, she’s going to hang him…I’m not about to let that happen.  We have to get him out of the city.  It’s the only way he’ll be safe.”

I’m caught by surprise at her candour.  “We?” I reply with surprise.

Portia looks at me pleadingly again.  “We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”  she asks.  “I could use your help, Sevrina.  And Ilya could too.”

I know my face must be betraying my emotion as she says this. Last night he didn’t seem that interested in letting anyone else close.  I have no reason to believe he’s changed his mind since then.

“Will he let us help?”  I whimper in such a way it changes her entire expression.  I wonder if she understands.

“It sounds like you’re talking from experience,” Portia says with an understanding eye roll.

I nod.  “I am.  Last night…”

Portia perks up.  “Last night?”

Heavy tears now roll down my cheeks at the memory of him kissing me goodbye.  I wipe them away and sigh.  “He pushed me away,” I whimper.

Portia’s eyes go wide as she sees the depth of my emotion on display.

“Were… were you and Ilya…?”

I shake my head, which quiets her.  “I don’t know what we were.  I only know that for the first time I can remember, I felt…I felt right… And I wish…. Gods, I don’t want him to get hurt… But he told me he needed to do this alone, and he pushed me away.”

Portia rolls her eyes again.  “That sounds like Ilya, alright.  Let me guess; He told you it was to keep you safe?  He used to tell me that all the time when we were younger.  He never let me handle anything.  Always shouldering someone else’s burdens while simultaneously lamenting how heavy the load is.  I mean, it’s nice to hear he’s still my same brother.  And now that I’m older, maybe I can finally help carry that weight.”

I nod and collect myself back to composure.  Portia reaches a hand out and touches my shoulder. 

“Ilya needs people he can rely on.  He might need _you._   So let’s go find him.”

I perk up a bit.  “Where do we find him?” I ask. 

Portia squeezes my hands now that she can see I’m accepting this mission and smiles. 

“Come with me…I think I might know where he is.”

 

The tavern is quiet as we step inside.  A few patrons still mill about, talking in low murmurs.  It’s not very busy, but Portia seems so sure.  Noticing my concern, she turns to me with a smile.

“Trust me,” she says with a wink, “I know my brother.  He’d definitely go to a place called The Rowdy Raven.”

I can’t help but chuckle. 

“You’re right,” I say.  “I’ve been here with him twice.”

Portia gives me a surprised glance.  “You were?”  I half smile.  She points her finger into my face.  “You’ll be filling me in later, Sevrina!”

The burly bartender nods to us when he notices us, and seems to recognise me.  He half smiles at me as he cocks his head in the direction of a table in the far corner, and a flash of auburn catches my eye.  My heart leaps.

It’s Julian.  He’s slumped over his table, face obscured by mussed hair.  The stein in his hand isn’t the only one near him.  Glasses litter the table, in fact.  I’m sure he’s spent the entire night here, drowning his sorrows.  I point him out to Portia.

“Oh Gods,” she groans with another roll of her eyes.  “Listen, when he gets like this, he really needs a good boot to the ass, so... Do you want to deliver it, or should I?”

I give a half smile.

“Oh, I can do it,” I reply.

I clear my throat, straightening up and approach Julian’s table with purpose.  Portia follows me closely.

“Julian,” I say when we reach him.

He jumps a little at the unexpected utterance of his name.  He lifts his head slowly, blinking blearily up at me.

“Sevrina!”  He mutters in disbelief, a drunken smile dancing briefly across his face before he becomes bewildered.  “You…You’re here.  In the Raven.  In front of me…. What…. Uhh… What are you doing here?”

Portia butts in.  “What are _you_ doing here?  It’s the middle of the day!”

Julian turns to Portia with a sense of older brother superiority.

“It’s never too early for a glass of Salty Bitters,” he says, then evading the topic of himself, “Bartholomew makes a great one.  Barth!  Hey, Barth!  Two more Bitters, would you?”

I near him and speak in a hushed voice, hoping he will sense the need for discretion.

“Julian,” I say as calmly as I can, “This is a good way to get yourself caught!”

Julian exhales and waves a dismissive, clumsy hand.

“Caught?  Me, caught?”  Then he stops the foolery and looks at his stein.  “Good.  I’d deserve it.”

He then throws both arms out in an expressive, boastful gesture, knocking a neighbouring chair which wobbles and then stills.  I pull out the chair opposite him and sit. Portia notes my decision, and takes the seat at his side.

“You must be relieved.  Even if you weren’t last night,” he says, “Well, just look at me now, Hmm?  What an absolute catch!  Definitely husband material, eh?  Do you get it now?  I’m a… I’m a complete fuck-up.  You’d better get out of here before I drag you both down, too.”

That’s not going to happen.  I’m not about to let him sit here alone, drinking himself into a stupor until he gets arrested. 

“No.”  I try to say matter-of-factly, but it comes out instead with a warmth I can’t supress. “I won’t do that.”

Julian looks at me, astonished at the tenderness of my tone.

“You… Er…What?” 

“We aren’t leaving,” I clarify.

Julian stares at me in disbelief for a long moment, and then he groans, dropping his head down to the table, pressing his cheek to the wood, eye closing.

His voice comes out quiet and muffled, a reluctant admission.

“I don’t want either of you tangled up in this mess,” he mutters.  “I couldn’t bear it if you get hurt.”

Portia draws nearer to him and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“We get to decide that, Ilya,” she says.  “Not you.  Stop trying to push us away.”

Julian is speechless for a moment.  He sits up and then opens his mouth, trying to find the words.

“I…Well…  You both came all this way…” and then, showing he isn’t entirely prepared to cooperate, “Why don’t you sit a while?  Relax.  Have a Salty Bitters.  They’re disgusting.”

He looks at me with an air of mischief and adds, “I’ve had five.”

Despite my best judgment I can’t help but crack a smile at his wicked humour, but I quickly come back to myself.  Julian doesn’t look like he’s planning to move any time soon, but we can’t afford to stay all day.  He puts his head back down into his arms on the table.  He looks miserable.  Before we figure anything else out, I want to wipe that sadness from is eye, if only to soothe my own aching heart.               

“Julian,” I say, only just above a whisper, “You might not believe it, but I really do want to help you.  I want to know you and be with you.  I want to spend time with you.”

Julian scoffs.  “Even after I hurt you last night?  Don’t be foolish, Sevrina.  Only a masochist would want to be with me.  I’m not good for anyone.  A moment of happiness with you—it’s not worth all the pain and tears that inevitably follow. It’s like I told you last night—I will wind up fucking everything up.”

Portia has decided to follow my lead.

“Ilya, listen.  I know you’re used to doing everything alone, that hasn’t changed since we were children.  But we’re here to help now, and we’re not leaving until you’re safe.  Right, Sevrina?”

I nod, and try reaching out to bridge the gulf again, brushing my fingers on his.  He doesn’t take my hand, but he presses into the caress.

“That’s right,” I say.

“Though really, we should be getting out of the city, not sitting here talking,” she adds.

Julian sits up.  “I can’t leave, Pasha.  Not until I know for sure what I’ve done.”

Portia nods.  “Fine.  Then you have to let us help you.  We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

Julian looks dubiously between us, brows screwed up together.

“Well,” he concedes with a heavy sigh, “I can’t tell either of you what to do.  If you want to be here, I can’t really stop you.”

“Fantastic!” Portia says, kissing her brother on the cheek.  “I’ll take it!”  And then she looks to me.  “So, if we can’t get him out of the city yet, what’s the next step?”

Right… we’re going to need a plan if we want to discover what happened that night.  Julian’s life could depend on it.  If only he could just remember…

“We should start at the scene of the crime.  It might help jog Julian’s memory.”

Portia nods.  “It won’t be a problem for us, but how will Ilya get into the palace undetected?  If someone sees him, it’s all over.”

That is a problem, but…What if they don’t see _him_?

“There’s a spell I can use,” I suggest.  “Something to disguise him.”

Julian opens his mouth to protest.  “What, you mean I’d become another person?  But who would I become?”

“You wouldn’t _be_ someone else.  It would just be a disguise.  It would be temporary.”

Julian blinks.  He’s drunk, but I think he understands.

“Who, then?” he asks.

There’s only one person who would make sense travelling with me and Portia.  But I don’t know how Julian would feel about it… Maybe it would be better not to tell him.

“I think I know,” I whisper.  “Let’s go out to the alley… I will change you there.”

We step out into the alley, Portia and I both steadying Julian as he tries valiantly to walk on drunken legs.  We turn into a secluded corner, away from prying eyes.

“This will only be temporary?” Julian asks again.

“Yes, Julian,” I laugh softly.  “Don’t worry.  The world won’t be deprived of your handsome face for long.”

He smiles slightly.

“You really like me,” he says in drunken simplicity as he gets his footing. 

I laugh softly.  “Yes, I do.  I like you very much.”

Julian chuckles lowly and puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“I like you, too,” he says softly.  “More than you think…”

I think he wants to keep talking, but now isn’t the time.  I shush him gently.

“I promise we will talk about this later,” I mutter softly, “But right now we need to disguise you, alright?”

Julian nods and lets go of my shoulder.

I’ve never done this myself, but I’ve seen Asra do it dozens of times.  I just need to focus.

I gather some dirt from the ground, blowing it on Julian.  It shimmers in the air and then settles on his skin, rippling with magic.  And then, suddenly, he’s different.

“Oh, who’s that?”  Portia says in amazement, “He’s handsome!”

Julian is confused.  “What?  What?  What do I look like?”

He glances around and then scrambles to a puddle, dropping down on his knees to peer at his reflection.  He sees Asra’s face looking up at him.

“Oh my Gods,” he mutters, aghast, and then he starts to laugh.  “I’m definitely too drunk for this.”

 

Julian dedicates the entire journey back to the palace to practicing his Asra impression.  Whether he knows it or not, his pace is relentlessly quick. Portia and I are dripping with sweat when we reach the bridge.

“How do you suppose he’d be feeling in this moment?”  Julian asks me, “Like a lamb, entering the den of wolves? Or maybe… a wolf, entering the den of… vipers.  Hmm...  Vipers he wouldn’t mind, he and Faust would fit right in.”

Marble screeches under his heels as Julian stops abruptly.  His face –Asra’s—turns to me, tight with pain.

“Faust… That’s the snake’s name, isn’t it?”

I nod slowly, trying to be reassuring.  His brow pinches, and he rubs at his temples in irritation.

“I…I remember the snake,” he mutters curiously.  “She nearly… squeezed the life out of me once.”

He turns away.  He’s been acting like this ever since we left the tavern—keeping a careful distance maintained between us, but sending constant, searching glances my way, as if I’m the one who’s so difficult to understand.  At least he’s sobered up.

“So, it’s safe to say he would be surprised,” Julian deduces, “When he’s surprised, is he more of a…This?  Or more like this?”

He shows me a few expressions and I guide him.

“Yes, more like that.  That’s good.”

Portia has had it up to her eyeballs.

“Ilya, I know this is going to be a challenge, but…try not to talk too much, alright?”

Julian nods.  “Oh, no—naturally not.  Asra doesn’t talk much.  Believe me, it’s hard to maintain such an aura of mystery once you open your mouth.”

He doesn’t know how funny he sounds, but I can only manage a small smile to myself with the nerves that are building up in me.

“Maybe he was just quiet around you?” Portia suggests in a barbed, sisterly tone.  “You’ve got a real bad habit of doing the talking for everyone, Ilyushka.”

We reach the looming threshold.  Portia takes a deep breath and holds in her chest, setting her shoulders, and then thrusts her arms against the great doors, which part and close behind us with a sound like grinding stone.

We notice the hallways are deserted immediately.

“Strange,” whispers Portia, “Where is everybody?”

This strikes me as very lucky.  The hallway is ours, but Julian remains alert at my side.

“So, umm… Where can I take you first, oh great magicians?”  Portia says as she turns to us.  She is playing the part well in case anyone is around to hear.

Julian speaks up. “The bedroom, of course.  Bring us to the room where the dark deed was done.”

 

The dogs are not on their step, nowhere to be found when we ascend the staircase of Count Lucio’s wing.  There are sounds, echoing up and down the hall as Portia leads us to his room.  Julian seems to be growing unsettled.

“Did you say that no one ever comes to these rooms anymore?”  He asks in hushed tones.

“No,” Portia confirms. “Never in the years I’ve been here, if they don’t have to.  And when they do… let’s just say there are a lot of stories floating around downstairs.  People have heard things.  Seen things.”

We reach the door as a ghostly moan floats through the rafters, making Julian bristle from head to toe.  Portia tentatively turns the handle and finds it’s already unlocked.  Cautiously, she leans on it, when a crash shakes the room from inside, and the door swings open.

The room is full of activity.  Servants are scrubbing the surfaces caked in many years’ grime.  Wide, sweeping streaks of ash climb the wall behind the heavy canopy bed.  Eyes wide is the Countess, who looks from Portia to me to Julian with a flash of recognition.

“Portia, there you are,” she says with a smile.  “And hello, Sevrina.  At last, we are tending to the ruin of this room.  There have been a number of curious accidents…”

Her eyes settle on Julian, disguised as Asra.

“Where are my manners?” she says sweetly, “And who is this?”

Julian clears his throat and makes to introduce himself. 

“I am the majulian— _magician_ Asra, here to help my apprentice help you, Countess.”

As Nadia steps closer, I feel a cold tremor run down Julian’s spine.

“Asra,” she says with a lovely smile, extending her hand warmly.  “At last, we meet.”

“Ah yes,” Julian says, mustering all the calm he can, “I would have offered my help earlier, you see, but I was on a…quest to open my third ear.”

Portia shoots him a look as if to say even she knows how stupid he sounds.  I will him silently in my head to stop talking.  Nadia hasn’t noticed his absurd claim, as she is studying his face too hard.

“No, no,” Nadia tuts, “I simply thought we might have met before, as you were here to help my husband in the time of the plague… but you are indeed a stranger to me.  Or else, my eyes may be deceiving me—it’s terribly dim in here.  Perhaps if the lamp was lit?”

We follow her elegant gesture to a cobwebbed sconce high up on the dusty wall, too high to reach without magic.  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Julian’s throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“What lamp?”  Julian plays dumb.

“That lamp,” I say, pointing it out, and discreetly prod Julian’s arm.  He gives a flourish and I send up a bolt of fiery intention towards the lamp. The light bursts to life with a snap, showering sparks on the portrait under the sconce.  The Count’s portrait.

“Oh my!” Nadia exclaims, as the sparks start to smoke.  Portia snatches a ladder from nearby and rushes past us to take care of it.

“It’s fine, Milady, I’ve got it!”  She announces dutifully.  Scrambling up the ladder, she beats the embers away from the portrait with a rag, but she doesn’t see the shape forming in the dustiest corner.  I happen to glance over at a whim.  It looks like white smoke, gathering into a vague, standing form…my clutching fingers find Julian’s arm.  He doesn’t turn in time to see the flash of movement as the white shape darts across the room to ram the ladder.

“My heavens, Portia!” Nadia exclaims as the ladder comes crashing down, taking Portia with it, and she lands in the Countess’ waiting arms.  “Are you alright, dearest?”

Portia nods.  “Yes, Milady, I just must have lost my balance.  Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“So quick!” Julian blurts out, “That was a feat of amazing foresight, Countess—Almost as if you saw the future!  You may have…abilities.  In magic.”

After helping Portia steady on her feet, Nadia gives Julian a curious look.

“I wonder,” she says thoughtfully.  “Perhaps when I am through here, I shall join you both in investigating.”

Damn it, Julian, keep your mouth shut.

“In the library,” Portia suggests.  “Investigating in the library.”

Gods, Portia, what are you doing?

“Ah, yes, excellent,” Nadia agrees.  “The perfect place to start. I believe you keep the keys?”

Oh, now I see.

Portia stammers.  “I... Yes.  I… Ahem.  Follow me, please, great magicians.”

Portia’s eyes glitter as she leads us out of the room.  Julian loses the fine control of his Asra façade, letting a grin of delight slip by, too much like him to pass for anyone else.

 

When we get to the library, my magic hangs on to its last gasp while the locks turn in their place behind us, and then Julian’s glamour drops like sheer fabric slipping from his head to his toes, revealing his true form.  I sigh heavily and lean back on the closed door, passing a hand over my head.

It’s just Julian and I, alone.  My nerves subside enough for my heartache to surge through me again, making my stomach twist and my breath flutter a moment while I will my stinging eyes not to tear.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” he says softly, seeming to misinterpret my mannerisms as nerves.  “I may not know magic, but there’s definitely something going on here.  Something beyond my knowledge…. Luckily for us, we’re at the library, so let’s see what we can learn.”

We slip through the stacks, Julian’s eye scanning quickly, roaming over the titles as his fingers flutter on the spines.  I follow, resolving to be content in helping, my curiosity piqued by the path he’s taking.  I was going to show him to the desk, but it seems he’ll find his way there on his own.  Along the way, he plucks about a dozen books from the shelves.

“All these books,” he mutters, seeming to be recognizing his surroundings, “And I kept going back to the same old… just around that corner, I had a desk… It’s coming back to me.  It’s so close, at the back of my mind, I can just taste it…”

When his gaze finally rests on me again, I must not look impressed.  He casts a bashful gaze to the ground.

“You’re angry with me?” He asks. “I suppose you ought to be.”

I shake my head. “I’m not angry with you,” I reply. And it’s true.  All I want is to get closer to him again.

He sighs, looking past me.

“You’re not, hmm?”  he says miserably.  “You know, Sevrina, there’s such a thing as being too forgiving.”

“You’d rather I punish you, I know,” I say calmly.  “But I don’t want to.  I can see that you’ve been punishing yourself enough.”

Julian is speechless for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times without managing to find the right words to say.  Suddenly his eye goes wide and his breath catches. He shuffles quickly past me, toward the desk.  It’s cluttered and unassuming, very much like I had left it, but not exactly.  It’s been touched.

“There it is,” he says, unable to mask his astonishment, “That’s my desk…”

Julian seems to forget me as he starts tearing through the desk in pursuit of something.  The papers that he tosses haphazardly aside are meticulous drawings and logs.  While he mutters to himself, I pluck one of them out of the air and study the intricate image.

A beetle.  That’s strange.  I’m so engrossed in his drawing that it takes me a moment to notice when he goes still.  A tremble runs through his arm, and in his hand is an oily metal key with a red stone in the eye.

“Ah ha!” he exclaims, “This is it—this is what was calling to me… Don’t ask me how I know, but I know…. It’s not any of these old scrawlings, it’s _this._ ”

He tosses the key delightedly in the air, snatching it on the way down and pockets it with a scheming gleam in his eye.  I’m only half surprised when he grasps me by the shoulders and spins me with an adoring grin.

“I’m one step closer,” he breathes, “If it wasn’t for you, Sevrina, I’d still be two behind!”

He sweeps me victoriously into his arms, stopping when his nose is an inch from mine…and we hear a cacophonous screech from the window.  Julian yanks me down.  I’m rushed to the nearest corner, pinned by quivering arms.  I watch his throat bob as he watches the window.  He takes a slow, deep breath, and flushes when his chest presses against mine.

“Just a bird,” he whispers, embarrassed, “I’m sorry…”

His gaze trails down, observing all the places we touch.  Biting his lip, he groans at the back of his throat.

“About everything,” he whispers emotionally, “I’m so sorry.”

Oh?  He lets his head drop, looking askance as if he can’t bear to face me.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, rejecting you like I did,” he admits, “Temporary madness.  It perhaps goes without saying that I find you…. Exceptionally… exceedingly attractive—and I don’t just mean physically, although you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on…. whether I’m destined to hang or not, I can’t deny these feelings of being drawn to you...  And by some miracle, you see something attractive in me, too.”

My fingers wind in his cloak as he makes these admissions to me, willing him to say at last what I’m longing to hear.

“But to what end, Sevrina?”  he continues.  “I pace, I drink, I tear my hair out.  And still I don’t know what to do.  Sevrina… Sevrina, what do you want me to do?”

He finally looks at me properly, fiery passion gleaming in his single, red-rimmed eye.

“Kiss me, you idiot,” I whisper.

For a moment, his eye goes wide.  I stare him down, daring him to ask if he heard me correctly.

“If you insist,” he whispers throatily.

His hand finds the back of my neck as he pulls me in and his lips meet mine eagerly, ravenously.  As his needy mouth works over mine, his other arm comes around the small of my back, tipping me off balance, so I have little choice but to cling to his chest while his fingers curl at my nape.  His heartbeat under my touch is shockingly quick, his body is wound so tightly.  As I try to soothe his nerves with a gentle caress, he pulls away and gives me a suffering look, like he’s going to go on a philosophical tangent we’ll both regret.

“Don’t speak,” I whisper pleadingly, my hands coming up to rest on either side of his face.  He nods.  I kiss him slower this time, pressing him gradually into the corner.  With a short sigh, he swells against me.  I feel his desire grow hot and rigid against my thigh as his hands wander for the first time over my dress to feel my breasts.  When he finally wrenches his mouth from mine, we’re close, tangled limbs against one another.  I hear every movement of his lips as he speaks.

“Oh, if we had the time,” he breathes, “If you gave me permission to ravish you… oh, the things I would _do…_ ”

“Did I say speak?”  I ask teasingly.

“No,” Julian admits.

I draw his face to mine again and press a lingering kiss to his parted lips.  He sighs deeply as I angle my head, my hand sliding into his thick hair.  As my mind races, I wonder… What are the chances that we will get caught?  Too high?  Should I put a stop to this?  The thought leaves my mind as he leans back against the desk, pulling me over him, knocking his books to the floor.

“Don’t mind those,” he whispers, and seals his mouth back over mine, moaning low in his throat and arching as my leg slips between his.  I can’t help pressing my pelvis into his thigh, rocking into him with a need he recognizes.

“I’d no idea you were so deliciously wanton,” he chuckles lowly.  “Oh, you’re going to make it difficult to hold back if you keep doing that.”

My hands fly to his coat and I start to unbutton it.  He looks delighted, and I’m astonished by my own boldness.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” I heave, “I want all of you.”

“Oho,” he laughs wickedly, “I’ll have you seeing stars…”  

I untuck his shirt from his trousers and he’s hiking my skirts up to my hips.  My hands fumble with the fly of his trousers and he laughs softly through my kisses as I continue to roll my hips up and down over his thigh.

“What a shame we don’t have the time and space to do this properly,” he whispers huskily, “I’d dedicate hours to you…Days, even…”

“We will do that next time,” I whisper with a mischievous smile as I tug the fly of his trousers open, “But for now, I—“

Just then, I hear the murmur of Portia’s voice on the opposite side of the door.

“Gods damn it,” Julian mutters, halfway laughing through his frustration.  “Of course we’d be interrupted…”

Nadia’s low, dulcet tone replies to Portia, indecipherable, but it’s enough to snap us both to attention.  In a flash, he takes me by the wrist and rushes with me into the shadows.

“Sevrina,” he whispers as we straighten our clothes, “We need to leave. Now.”

Another lock in the door clicks open, somehow echoing in the quiet library.  There are ten locks still left.

“Oops, dropped the key ring again!”  Portia exclaims nervously. “I’m so sorry, Milady, my fingers are so slippery today!”

Nadia’s voice responds, “That’s quite alright, Portia.  Perhaps I should try, on account of your slippery fingers.”

“What?  Oh, no, Milady, I can’t have _you_ opening doors for _me_!  It will only take a moment.”

Julian turns to me, face pale, and speaks in a hushed tone.

“I won’t have you caught in my mess, Sevrina…When that door opens, you run, you hide, you get out of here.  She’ll be too busy arresting me to notice you.”

There aren’t many places to hide—what does he want me to do, jump out the window?

I shake my head vehemently, my heart beating a violent rhythm in my chest.

“You need to go!” he whispers desperately.  “Use some hocus pocus, make a hasty getaway, s _omething_!  Whatever you have to do, Sevrina, you have to stay safe!”

“I’m not giving up!” I argue, “I won’t leave you to face this alone!”

“Damn it, Sevrina!” he pleads, his desperation growing, “This time you’ll have to!  There’s not room in this library for two self-sacrificing fools!  Let me do this for you—if you’re caught, you could hang alongside me…”

The ninth lock clicks, and the eighth right after.

"Go, Sevrina,” he implores, “Please!”

He grips my arms tight, his eye is unwavering.  He really intends to sacrifice himself for me.

“We haven’t discovered anything yet,” I assert with tears stinging my eyes, “Are you really willing to die without answers?”

“I’ve been ready to die since I returned to Vesuvia.  A few unanswered questions won’t make me turn in my coffin!”

I shake my head, planting my feet firmly where they are.  I won’t be moved.

“Julian, I won’t leave you.”

Another lock, another click.  There are only a few left now, and time is running thin.

“You’re really not going to leave me,” he whispers breathlessly.  He’s staring at me like I’m some alien thing, a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” he says decidedly.

His gaze shoots to the window, and the tree far down below.

“You… you can’t fly, can you?  Turn into a giant bird, maybe?”

"No, I can’t turn into a giant bird!” I whisper in terror.

I cast my magic out frantically, searching for something, anything.

An answer.  It comes in the form of a whisper.  I can feel it on the edge of my magic, some hidden thing waiting to be discovered.  I grab Julian’s hand and tug him over behind a bookshelf.  Two marble pillars frame a wall covered in ivy… and behind it, when I brush the plants aside, a small carving.  A symbol I know well, and one that fills me with hope.

It’s Faust, and just beneath the surface of the wall, I can feel Asra’s magic pulsing.  There’s a portal here, something that will take us away… I just need time to unlock it…

The final lock clicks, and the doors begin to slowly fold open.  Time has run out.

We’re hidden behind this shelf, but we won’t stay that way for long.  We need to leave.  Julian stiffens beside me, as if ready to walk out and surrender.  He takes a breath, about to make a move, and suddenly Asra appears outside of the library.  The real Asra.  I can see the three of them through the gaps in the books and a jolt of shock runs through me.

“Ah, Countess!” Asra calls out, diverting her attention, “Are you looking for me?”

How did he know?

“Ah, Asra!” Nadia responds jovially, “Not in the library after all?  Where’s Sevrina?”

“I sent her off to pick up an ingredient at the shop,” Asra explains.

“Oh, what a pity, she could have joined us for dinner… You’ll join me, Asra, will you not?”

Asra smiles.  “I’d be delighted to, Countess.  I’ll follow you.”

Nadia turns to leave, Portia at her heels, looking astonished, but Asra pauses, head tilted just slightly toward us.  Our eyes meet from across the room.  He doesn’t look thrilled.  Beside me, Julian tenses like he’s ready to run out and confront him.  Asra turns abruptly, and follows Nadia down the hall, things unspoken still hanging heavy in the air.  Behind us, the magical portal suddenly activates, making the stone wall ripple like water in a pond.  Without waiting for him to respond, I pull Julian through and out into freedom.

 

The sun is low on the horizon as we stumble out of the portal and into the garden.  In front of us is the fountain, and the swaying willow tree whose branches trail in the gently babbling water.  The breeze if full of the scent of peonies.  We’re out of the palace, but not the grounds… Julian isn’t safe yet.  I think of a little doorway, set in a lemonstone wall, the one that leads to the golden fields.

“Come on,” I whisper, still feeling cautious, “I know a way out.”

We walk side my side, hands brushing against each other every so often, but Julian is quiet.  After a little while walking, we hear some footsteps in the leaves up ahead.  Both of us tense, ready to run.

“There you are!”  We hear Portia say, astonished, “I wasn’t sure if I’d find you!”

“Pasha!” Julian sighs, “You’re alright!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  She protests laughingly, “We’re not all fugitives on the run from the law, Ilya!”  She turns to me.  “Your handsome magician friend, Asra, came and helped me out, Sevrina!  Oh Gods, it was a big shock when he arrived—I didn’t know what I was going to do, and then suddenly there he was!  You magic types are really amazing—How did he know how to find us?”

That’s a good question.  I didn’t leave a note this morning.  Maybe Faust was watching us?

“Anyway, it’s really not safe to keep moving,” Portia says softly, “Not until the guards change shifts later tonight.  Follow me to my cottage—guards don’t come around there.”

We follow as she leads us deeper into the garden.    Fireflies glow softly, echoing the twinkling stars in the sky above as we settle on the log bench, in front of a crackling fire pit.

We’re safe here.  Inside, I can hear the bustle of Portia in her kitchen, glasses clinking and metal scraping against pans. 

Julian sits next to me, a little pensive and distant.  He frowns, tilts is head up to watch a firefly float lazily past, and lets out a low sigh.

“I… didn’t expect to see Asra again,” he says.  “He really saved our hides there.”

I nod and softly agree, not saying much, as Julian doesn’t seem done talking.

“We have a history, he and I,” Julian says with a sigh.  “I’m the first to admit my faults, and I was probably no angel, although I honestly can’t remember what I did…  He probably has very good reason to hate me… I just wish I could remember what it was...  I want to make it right.  Do you think he’d speak to me?”

“Are you still the same person you were back then?”  I probe gently, thinking of what Asra’s told me of Julian.

“Gods, I hope not,” he sighs, “But I suppose time will tell.”

Portia pokes her head out the back door to us.  “Food is done—come on, eat up quickly, we have to get you out of here soon.”

She hands us each a bowl of minced beef in a cream sauce with potatoes and green beans, and drops down to sit with us in the garden.  Pepi follows close on her heels, swishing around her legs before approaching us to sniff curiously.  Julian looks stricken for a second, as if he’s finally realizing we’re at Portia’s home.

“Look at everything you’ve accomplished without me,” he sighs.  “Is this one of the Grandmas’ secret recipes?  I haven’t had this in ages, and it tastes just the same, Pasha… though, it’s a little under salted, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got enough salt for all of us,” Portia bites back, making Julian laugh as he ducks a cuff aimed at his head.  He reaches an arm out and wraps it around Portia’s shoulders.

“Oh, do I?  Shall I share some, then?”

“Careful,” She tuts, “You’ll scare Sevrina off!”

Portia gives me a bright smile, and turns back to her food, looking radiantly happy in the moonlight.

Conversation flows easy and free.  It’s almost enough to make me forget everything else that’s happened.  This, right here, with Julian and Portia, feels right. 

Julian goes quiet after a long moment, staring down into his hands and his empty bowl.  I take it from his as Pepi climbs into his lap and settles, purring loudly, and curls up into a little ball, blinking slowly up at him.

“You have a good life here, Pasha,” he says wistfully.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the thought from his expression, but only succeeds in ruffling his hair.

“If things weren’t the way they are… If I was a free man... a _better_ man… Could I have this?  Ah, it’s foolish to think about.  Just another wish that will never be fulfilled…”

“You’re entitled to happiness, Julian,” I say, reaching over to smooth his hair. “You can have a life like this if you want it.”

“Can I, though?”  He asks achingly, “Even if we clear my name, even if we spend every night together... something will ruin this feeling, won’t it?  I’ll probably sabotage it myself, without meaning to…”

“Is it so difficult to let yourself be happy?”  I ask him.

Julian looks at is lap again.  “Yes,” he replies.

“Why?”

“I wish I knew…  I know I’ve done something terrible.  I just don’t have the memories to tell me what.  And I can’t reconcile it.  It kills me every day.”

“Why are you so convinced you’re guilty of something so unspeakably abhorrent?” I ask softly.  “Julian, I’ve only seen goodness in you.”

“Sevrina, I feel it in my guts,” he says softly, “I know without a doubt that I’ve committed some kind of monstrous sin…. And I can’t forgive myself.”

Portia looks at him with that optimistic glint of hopeful helpfulness in her eye.

“We’re in this together, Ilya,” she assures him, patting his shoulder.  “We will help you find the answers, help you make it right and help you clear your name.  And then, we will still be there to help you build a fulfilling future.  If you start ruining things, one of us will stop you, until you learn how to stop yourself.  I believe in you. You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?”

“Yes, and made a mess of things along the way,” he sighs.  “Maybe I… Maybe my mistake was trying to do everything alone… I thought if I kept you two out of it, I could keep you safe, but you just barrelled on ahead and involved yourselves anyway.”

He goes quiet for a moment, scratching Pepi beneath the chin, and finally concedes, “I think… I think I do need your help.”

Portia nods.  “We’ll figure this out, so long as we’re together.  If you don’t want to leave, Ilya… if you really want answers, we’ll help you find them.  As long as you don’t push us away.”

“You’re right,” Julian concedes.  “I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize.”

Portia grins broadly as she gathers our dishes.  “Well… you’ve always been dense.  But you got it eventually.”

She yawns loudly and then apologises for it.

“I had better get to bed… I have to wake up at dawn to work,” she explains.  “Sevrina, will you be able to escort him out of the gardens alone?”

I nod.  I know the gardens well, now.  I can find our way home.

“Thank you, Sevrina,” she says soberly, “For being on his side.”

“Thank you for dinner, Portia,” I say softly.  “Sleep well.”

With a final smile, we wish each other goodnight and she heads back into the cottage.  Pepi lifts her head to watch, then settles back down in Julian’s lap.

“We can stay in the garden a little longer, if you’d like to,” Julian whispers to me, “I know it’s selfish, but when I’m around you… Sometimes I want to be selfish.  Is that alright?  Am I really allowed to be?”

I look at him with a warmth I can’t disguise.  “Let’s stay a little longer.”

Julian turns to me and smiles, his eye dancing with mischief.

“Am I a bad influence on you, or is it the other way around?” he asks teasingly.  He looks into my eyes as if he wants nothing more than to stay here with me forever.  His smile fades a little as he leans back against the bench and cranes his neck to look at the stars. He is so beautiful I can’t take my eyes away.  His fingers stroke idly through Pepi’s fur, and she purrs loudly, happy in his lap.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, “What you did for me today… I’ll never forget it.  I’m not used to accepting help.”

I laugh softly.  “From what I can tell, you’re actually pretty terrible at it.”

Julian laughs in spite of himself, and Pepi stirs, hopping off his lap to go and chase fireflies.

“You’ve noticed, then?” he laughs.  I smile at him and he reaches over to playfully toy with my fingers.  “About last night, Sevrina, I… It’s getting more and more difficult to ignore my feelings for you.  Last night was my last ditch effort to push you away and save you the trouble that will inevitably come with my companionship, but you’ve astonished me and fought for it instead…”

He shifts nearer to me like he craves the closeness, but isn’t sure he’s allowed it.  He leans forward, a little more, slowly closing the distance between us.

“If you really want to be here,” he says, idly winding his long fingers through mine, “Then I’ll make you a promise that I won’t fight you.  I’ll stop pushing you away—it’s too hard when I want you so much….  I’m sorry it took me so long to really see you, Sevrina, but I know now how beautifully real you are.  I will never forget it.”

I smile and reach up to touch his cheek.  He presses into the caress with a half-smile.

“Thank you for letting me in, Julian,” I whisper emotionally.  “I do want to be here.  And I want you.”

“I’ll never understand why,” he says with a smile, “But it feels wonderful to be wanted…. Will you let me hold you, Sevrina?”

I reach out to him eagerly.  “Yes, Julian... I’ve wanted to be in your arms from the moment I saw you today.”

He envelopes me in his embrace when he senses my emotion and folds me up protectively in his arms.  I’m shaking, overjoyed that he is here, warm, tender and mine… He kisses my hair and draws me in close, his arm around my shoulder.  I’m trembling with emotion and he quiets me while I try to steady myself against him. 

“Shh,” he hushes me softly.  “Please don’t be upset… I’m so sorry about last night, Sevrina.  I meant to do the best for you, but I was such a fucking fool…”

“I care for you,” I murmur, squeezing him around the middle. 

“I care for you, too, Kitten,” he whispers.  “I truly do... I truly do…”

I relax little by little and settle into his arms.  I lay a hand on his chest and absently fiddle with the fabric of his shirt.  He nuzzles against my hair and places quiet, calming kisses on the top of my head.  Suddenly, I realize that this embrace is comforting the two of us, not just me.

“Is this alright?” he asks softly, his breath shifting through my hair.

I squeeze him harder.  “Yes, Julian, this is more than alright.”

“Good… You know, for all of the wildness, I enjoyed today,” he says laughingly.  “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I haven’t always made things so difficult.  I used to have fun all the time.”

“Oh?”  I probe, hoping for another story.

“Oh, all sorts!  Why, I could tell you some stories, although I must warn you, some of them aren’t for innocent ears…. Before I came to Vesuvia, before the plague hit, I was exploring the world, you know.  Getting into all sorts of trouble.  This isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened with hanging.  I never got caught though.  Well, except for that time on the pirate ship…”

“Pirate ship?”  I ask with surprise, “You were a pirate?”

“Well, not so much a pirate as a… well… captive physician?  I was on board a merchant vessel travelling across the Southern Sea, offering medical care for free passage.  It was a spice ship—imported from Milova.  The journey was supposed to take a month, but a fortnight into the excursion we were attacked.  Now, this was before I was as impressive, smooth and suave as I am now—I hadn’t yet learned to fight.  And right before the captain took the final swing to lop off my head, I yelled, _Wait!  I’m a doctor, and that foot of yours looks gangrenous_!”

I laugh hard, covering my mouth to keep myself quiet.  Julian looks embarrassed, as if he’s just realized that Portia has gone to bed, and pulls a face. I settle back into his arms, still softly chuckling, and squeeze him around the middle.

“So began my stint on a pirate ship,” he laughs, “I learned a lot during those years—mostly how to talk myself out of sticky situations.”

I raise a comical eyebrow at his tale, and we share a warm laugh.

“I’ve always been trouble, Sevrina,” he sighs.  “I know that.  I can’t feel it more keenly than when I’m with you… Seems like that’s all I’ve gotten us into.  But trouble… Trouble can be fun.  Just not this kind… Not the kind that will get you killed for helping me…”

“I’m not worried,” I assure him.  “We’ll watch out for each other.”

He glances down, then swallows hard and shakes his head as he lays a hand on his chest over mine.

“I can’t even watch out for myself, Sevrina,” he whispers nervously.

I look up to him, our foreheads nearly touching now.  Julian cranes his head down, nuzzling into the touch.

“Then we’ll work on it,” I whisper.

He looks at me, concerned.  “But what if I fail—“

I close the distance and kiss him mid-sentence, swallowing up his words.  He immediately stops talking.  When we part, he blinks owlishly down at me for a long moment.

“What was that?” he asks me.

“A kiss,” I reply.

“I know,” he sighs, “But why did you kiss _me_?  I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”

I brush his jaw lightly with the back of my fingers.

“You don’t have to _earn_ affection, Julian.  You can just… have it.”

He looks at me with an emotional questioning in his eyes.

“I can just…”

And then his impish humour returns.

“You should be careful, Sevrina.  Give me permission and I might never take my hands off you.”

Despite his brave words, his hands are shaking slightly as he grips at my dress, pulling me even closer.  Our lips brush again, and then once more.  I can feel the beginning of a smile against mine, new and unsure.  He continues to kiss me with a building appetite, pressing in again and again like a man starved.  My fingers curl in his hair and I kiss him back deeper.  We don’t part until we’re out of breath.  After the moment, he pulls away, biting his lower lip as he looks into my eyes very seriously.

“In the library, earlier,” he whispers, “I wanted it, I would have enjoyed it immensely, and I wouldn’t have regretted a thing, but… I’d rather do things properly with you, even if that means we need to wait for now…. You're not a whore in a Galdebrine port.  I don't ever want to give you reason to believe I'd treat you as such.”

I smile softly and press my cheek into the palm of his hand that is caressing my face.

“I think you’re right,” I whisper.  “We’ll wait until we have the time and space… I can hardly believe what came over me there… I just couldn’t help myself.”

He smiles.  “Neither could I.  You are utterly irresistible.”

I lean in and kiss him again and he yields to me freely, his hands drawing me closer to him.  When we part, he holds me a long moment, looking into my eyes, and then sighs deeply.

“We aren’t out of the woods, yet,” he reminds us both.  “Not even close… the key I found in the library….I don’t know what it means.  I don’t know what we’ll find.  But if you’re there with me, I can face it, whatever happens.”

He gets slowly to his feet, and offers me his hand.  I take it, my grasp sure and steady, and I follow him into the night.

We tread cautiously to the edge of the palace grounds and when Julian and I can see the flickering of lights from town, he turns to me seriously.

“I’ll go and sleep at Mazelinka’s,” he explains.  “It would probably be best for you to sleep at the palace, to avoid raising suspicions?”

I nod.  “I think you’re right, Julian, but you...”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says gently, taking my face in his hands, “I won’t do anything to screw this up… I will be cautious.  I’ll stick to side streets.”

I cling to him a moment, looking him in the eye.

“Let me cast a protection spell over you,” I whisper.  “It will help me to rest easy.”

Julian nods his head in consent.  I place my hands a few inches from either side of his head, and focus my magic.  There is a soft blue glow to the air around us as I focus, and after a moment, the spell is cast.

“That will help keep you hidden from anyone on patrol,” I whisper, “But please, still be cautious and go straight to Mazelinka’s.  I’ll meet you there tomorrow as soon as I’m able to.  Please have patience and wait for me there, don’t be reckless.”

“Thank you, Sevrina.  I will be careful.  I promise you.”

He closes the gap between us and kisses me with unexpected gentleness.  We linger in the embrace a long, peaceful moment, until at last he finds the will to pull away. He looks to me with a softness I’ve never seen in his expression.

Or have I seen it before?  I’m sure I have…

“My sweet Sevrina,” he whispers, “Go and rest.  I shall dream of you tonight.”

“Goodnight, Julian,” I whisper.

“Goodnight, Sevrina,” he answers, and disappears into the black of night.

I turn and walk back to the palace, holding my heart, a dreamy smile on my face.  I’m certain now more than I ever have been that Julian is in my missing memories, that he and I were close then, too, and my heart is the only thing that remembers.  Nothing else could explain the familiarity I feel with him, or the ease with which I’ve utterly handed him my heart in such a short period of time.

I breathe deep, casting magic out to him again, an extra measure to protect the man I love.


	10. The Hermit

I head into the dining room, still blinking sleep from my eyes, and I’m surprised to see it is already bustling.  Nadia sits at the head of the table, and to her right is Asra.  He smiles softly at me as I enter.  Faust is curled around his water goblet, lazily lapping from it.  Asra doesn’t seem to mind.

“Ah, Sevrina!”  The Countess announces happily, “Finally awake?  Come and join us for breakfast.”

“You had a pretty late night,” Asra says, covering for me as I take a seat with them at the table.  “Did you get enough sleep?”  He turns to the Countess to explain, “Sevrina didn’t get back from the shop until after dark.  It’s a long walk.”

“Oh, a pity you didn’t ask for a carriage,” Nadia tuts.  “Sevrina, the palace would have been happy to provide one.  Ah, well.  Did you at least find what you were looking for?”

“I’m afraid not,” I sigh, ignoring the stab of disappointment in my gut.  We’re no closer to solving the mystery.

Nadia looks confused.  “Oh my, really?  Perhaps you should change the organization method of your shop if it’s so difficult to find an herb in it.”

“It’s my fault, Milady,” Asra butts in, “I have eclectic methods.”

“Please, Asra.  Call me Nadia,” she says to him warmly.

Asra smiles.  “Of course, Nadia.”

“I’m told you are quite knowledgeable about magic, Asra, and that you are Sevrina’s teacher.”

“Oh, Sevrina has many abilities that come to her naturally.  I simply help her to expand and fine-tune.  She makes a really effective pep-up potion.”

“Oh, I see, how interesting.  How refreshing to be surrounded by real magicians.  I’ve little patience for the common frauds that keep little fortune-telling tents at the markets.”

Portia comes in to the dining room with a tray, and smiles.

“More tea?” she offers, standing at Nadia’s shoulder.  Nadia smiles affectionately at her, letting her hand rest fondly on Portia’s elbow.

“You’ve been working hard this morning, Portia, why don’t you join us?” she suggests.

Portia looks taken aback. “Oh, Milady! The bread won’t butter itself—I couldn’t!” And then she sits right down, leaning eagerly toward Asra.  I can’t hold back a smile, and neither can Nadia, whose eyes are twinkling warmly as she looks at her.

“So, is your magic different than Sevrina’s?  What kind of things can you do?”

Asra smiles warmly.  “Are you interested in magic?  Maybe I could teach you a few tricks, too.”

“Really?”  Portia’s eyes go wide as saucers.  “Right now?  I mean... I’m on duty…”

Nadia looks at Portia and smiles.  I can tell that she cares deeply her.

“I don’t see why not,” she permits, “I’d quite like to see what you’re capable of, Portia.”

The conversation fades off into more talk.  Asra leans over and murmurs in my ear when they aren’t looking.

“Meet me at the fountain after breakfast,” he says.  “We need to talk.”

 

Asra disappears after breakfast before I can speak to him, so I head down toward the fountain in the garden.  I can’t help but feel I’m in trouble with him. 

It’s a warm, sunny day, though I can see a hint of dark clouds on the far horizon.  I find Asra there, seated on the lip of the fountain, trailing his fingers idly into the water as I arrive.  He smiles warmly at me when he sees me, which puts my nerves at ease, and I take a seat next to him.

“The peonies are beautiful here, aren’t they?” I say softly. 

“Yes,” Asra agrees happily, taking in the garden with a glimmer of nostalgia in his expression.  “They put a lovely soft perfume in the air….  It’s been such a long time since I’ve been to the palace.  It was good to see Nadi again.  She hasn’t changed much.”

“What do you mean?” I ask softly.  “Do you know her?”

“I did, but she doesn’t remember me,” he explains.  “Some of her memories are missing, a lot like yours—it’s peculiar.”

I wonder what this all means.  If Nadia is missing memories like Julian and I are…

“Am I cursed?”  I ask Asra.  I have asked him this before, but this time, I have a feeling I may get an answer.

“Cursed?”  Asra replies, “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose… you’ve been hanging around Ilya too much.”

“That’s what he calls it, a curse.  The memory loss, and the healing.”

Asra’s eyes narrow.  “I see. Of course he does.  Overdramatic, as usual.”  Then his expression softens and he puts a hand on my shoulder.  “You’re not cursed, Sevrina.  It’s more complicated than that.  You want those memories back, right?”

I nod sheepishly.

“You’ve always been bad at letting things be,” he teases.  “It’s what I like about you… And I think you’ve been rubbing off on Ilya, too.  But that’s not why I asked you here.”

I look at him with an expression of questioning.  Asra stays quiet a moment, and then spreads his hands.

“You and Ilya are trying to figure out what happened that night, yes?  That’s why you were at the palace?  You’re lucky Faust let me know you were in trouble… Sevrina, why are you helping him?”

“I want to,” I sigh, “And no one else will.”

Asra frowns.  “Sevrina, please tell me you’re not falling for his tortured hero act… He’s not a hero.  He’s not even a _good_ man.  People have tried to help him.  He either doesn’t let them or he gets them all tangled up in his bullshit.  I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“It’s not like that,” I assure him.  “It’s different than that.”

“Listen—he can’t be trusted,” Asra says.  “The sooner you get to the bottom of this investigation, the better…. Then he won’t have to come around to take advantage of your good nature.  Things can get back to normal.”

I look at Asra and try to swallow the lump in my throat.

“What if…. What if I want him around?” I ask softly.  “What if—”

“No, Sevrina, you’re not hearing me,” Asra says pleadingly, “He’s dangerous.  He devours the good will of others and leaves their shattered remains in his wake—I’ve seen it!  He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“I don’t believe that,” I challenge, shaking my head.  “Maybe in the past he could be that selfish, but he’s not like that now—I’m telling you, he’s not like that with me.”

“He’s already hurt you once,” he says in exasperation.  “Why are you inviting him to make you suffer more?”

“No, I’m telling you, it isn’t like that!  Why won’t you listen to me?”

My heart is pounding and my eyes begin to sting with tears. My chin quivers and Asra looks at me with a dawning realization breaking over his face.  He takes me by the shoulders.

“Oh, Gods, Sevrina,” he exhales with urgency, “Please tell me he hasn’t got his hooks this deep in you…”

“Asra, I love him!” I heave, clinging to his vest and shaking him weakly.  Tears of frustration break over my cheeks.  “I love him.  I know you hate him, Brother, but please—don’t debase me for loving him.”

“You love him…” Asra sighs, with an air of defeat. 

“I love him,” I affirm, now weeping fully, “I know it seems fast, but I’m certain he’s in my missing memories… I might not remember anything from those years, but my heart remembers him, Asra.  My heart remembers…. I knew him then, didn’t I?”

Asra looks at me with disbelief in his eyes.  “Yes, you did,” he whispers shortly.  “I won’t lie to you.”

“And I loved him then, didn’t I?”

“You did… Is your head—?”

“And he loved me, didn’t he?”

Asra’s eyes go to the ground in front of him.

“If he did,” he sighs coldly, “He sure as hell didn’t live up to it.”

The air is heavy between us, my head is twinging, but in the moment I don’t care.  I step over in front of Asra and drop to my knees, taking his hands and looking up into his eyes pleadingly.  When he meets my gaze, his eyes are filled with nothing but caring and distress. His anger has evaporated.

“Sister, I’m deeply concerned,” he mutters lowly.  “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Say you’ll help me, Asra,” I whisper, “Please… Please help me help him….I couldn’t bear to see him hanged!”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it again.  For a moment, I think he will tell me no, but his gaze softens, and he lets out a low sigh as he squeezes my hands.

“Seek out the Scourge of the South,” he says, and his shoulders slump, some distant pain fluttering across his face before fading.  When he looks at me, I can see the sadness deep in his eyes. “If you’re really determined to get answers,” he mutters, “You’ll find him at the Coliseum.”

“Thank you, Asra,” I whisper, wiping my cheeks.

He squeezes my hands again and helps me to my feet.  “Please… stay safe, Sister.”

I embrace him and kiss him on the cheek. “I promise I will, Brother.”

I step back and look into Asra’s face, words failing me as they stick in my throat.  He smiles weakly at me.

“I hope it helps,” he whispers.  “Truly I do.  And I hope that Ilya can live up to his promises this time.”

“Thank you, Asra,” I say softly as I turn to leave the garden.  Julian is waiting for me at Mazelinka’s—he’ll want to know what I’ve discovered.

I only hope he didn’t get sick of waiting.

 

The trip into the city doesn’t take as long this time.  I know my way through the garden, passing through a lemonstone gate and into golden fields.  When I arrive at Mazelinka’s door, the sun is high in the sky, but the dark clouds on the horizon have crept closer.  There’s a bustle and a scrape as I knock on her door, and after a moment of noise, Julian answers the door breathlessly.

“Oh Sevrina,” he says, sweeping me inside and into his arms, “There you are, Darling… Did you get out alright?  Tell me you got out alright…”

I squeeze hold of him, glad to see he’s waited for me in this place where he’s safe.  We share a brief kiss, and then Mazelinka comes into the room and he steps back from me. Mazelinka peers up at me, hands on her hips and a wooden spoon clutched in her hand.

“There you are!” she calls.  “I hope you’ve come to take this mess off my hands—the boy’s been driving me crazy!  Come in, come in…” 

Julian puts an arm around my shoulders and ushers me further into Mazelinka’s house.  The smell of familiar spices hits me as I step in, and Mazelinka heads past us through to the kitchen, where she peers into a glowing pot, then gingerly tastes the brew before adding a handful of twigs.

“Your supper will be ready when you get back,” she sighs, then looks at me, exasperated. “That boy won’t eat unless you force him to, so be a dear and find him some lunch?  He wouldn’t eat this morning.”

There’s a fondness in her eyes, and although her words sound harsh, I can tell she cares about Julian.  Worry flits over her face.

“Make sure he eats,” she says motheringly.  “He’s too skinny as it is.”

“ _Lithe_ , my dear,” Julian corrects teasingly.  “ _Slender… svelt_ — Ouch!”

She smacks him with her wooden spoon with a friendly swat to the ear, and he gives her a grin.

“I’ll go for my things, then,” he says, excusing himself from the room.  “Another adventure, today, Sevrina?”

He tugs a trapdoor open and drops down into the hole, head nearly bumping against the wood as he drops.  Mazelinka gives me a long, discerning look before speaking.

“He really does brighten up when you’re around,” she says softly.  “It’s good to see.  But he’s a miserable mess when you’re not.  All the true hallmarks of real lovesickness.”

“What does he say about me?”  I whisper, hoping we’re out of his earshot.

“Lots of things,” Mazelinka says weightedly.  “He was moaning and bellyaching about you while you were gone, working himself up into a worry.  _Oh, Mazelinka, do you think she’s alright?  Did she get back to her room safely?  What if she got caught?  What if she’s in trouble because of me_?”

Mazelinka bustles about the kitchen, wiping up chopped herbs and setting everything back to rights as she talks.

“He was ready to up and burst into the palace and turn himself in for you,” she says, shaking her head and cleaning up some eggshell from the counter.  “I’ve never seen him go all glossy-eyed like he does for you, telling me how you’ll travel the world together after his name is cleared…”

She pauses at the sink, turning back to look at me thoughtfully.

“I don’t know if he’s admitted it to himself yet, but he loves you.”

I exhale heavily at that.  Mazelinka looks at me to try and understand my reaction.  She gives a wry grin.

“You love him, too,” she whispers.

“Oh, I do,” I reply.  She smiles, looking affectionately over at the trapdoor.

“So take him off my hands for me, would you?”  Mazelinka says at a volume intended for Julian to hear, “And don’t let go.  He’s a slippery boy.”

Julian calls up from the basement.  “Who’s slippery, hmm?  Talking about be behind my back?”

He appears at the trap again, climbing gracefully out.  The tips of his ears are red with embarrassment.  He is now fully dressed, coat buttoned and things packed.  I hear the distinct jangle of coin.

“You’ve been telling tales again, Mazelinka,” he chides, giving her an affectionate cuddle from one side.

“Nonsense,” she barks with laughter, “I’ve never told a tale in my life.  Now, get out of my house!”

She gives me a lingering look and a smile, winking at me before toddling off, muttering to herself.

“Thank you,” I call to her.  She doesn’t reply.

Julian looks to me and his cheeks flush.  “I heard what she said,” he explains.  “And it’s true, I was worried.  I care very deeply about what happens to you.  Sevrina, I’m glad you’re on my side.”

He doesn’t say that he loves me, which tells me he didn’t hear that part of the conversation.  I’m content to let it be, just happy to be near him again.

“Did you find anything else at the palace this morning?”  Julian asks, trying to keep the conversation from being too emotionally heavy, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Well,” I sigh, “I talked to Asra.”

Julian looks uncomfortable.  “What did he say?  Did he talk about me?”

I nod.  “He isn’t happy about you and I, as you’ve probably guessed… But he cares about me and I asked him for help in finding answers for you.  He told me to take you to seek out the Scourge of the South at the Coliseum.  He said that will bring us to some answers.”

Julian looks surprised.  “The Coliseum?  What’s he playing at?  That place hasn’t been used since…oho!”  he starts to chuckle to himself.  “Asra, you sly dog, what were you doing poking around t _here_?  Ah, well _—_ I guess we’ll figure it out!  Come on, Sevrina, we’re going shopping!”

 

We approach the Coliseum on foot, and beside me, Julian makes no attempt to hide his face, which I find disconcerting.  But there’s no one around.  The Coliseum has been abandoned for years.  There hasn’t been a fight since the Count’s death.  If there ever was a Scourge here, they’d only be fighting ghosts in the dirt now.

“It may look abandoned, Sevrina, but it’s not,” Julian asserts, seeming to know what I’m thinking.  “There’s an entire red market that goes on beneath our feet, right under the nose of the palace.  I used to be a regular here.  Give me a second—I’ll have the way open shortly…”

He moves over to a blank wall set between two columns, running his long, sensuous fingers over the brick.

“Now which was it?”  He mumbles to himself, “Two to the left, three right, up, up, down…Aha!  Now, don’t be frightened, Sevrina…”

He steps back and gestures to the wall with a wide flourish.  Nothing happens.

He crosses his arms and tries to shake of his embarrassment.

“Did I press the wrong brick?” He wonders aloud.  He shakes his head, feeling frustrated.

Asra wouldn’t have sent us here on a wild goose chase, and if I focus I can feel energy thrumming beneath my feet, beating a wild, erratic rhythm.  I close my eyes and centre myself, focusing on that untamed energy, trying to find the source.  Julian watches quietly.  My feet move without looking as I follow the feeling.  The edges of the darkness tinge slightly red as I get closer.

Julian starts to get uncomfortable.  “Sevrina?  What are you doing?  Is this a magic thing? Sevrina?  Answer me?”

When I open my eyes, I’m standing in the middle of the arena, and there’s a small latch at my feet.  I bend down to open it and peer inside.  There’s a rickety ladder leading into the darkness below.

“Well, would you look at that,” Julian whispers, astonished.  “Very impressive… Not just a pretty face, I see.” 

I laugh.  He kisses my forehead.

“Down the rabbit hole we go,” he says determinedly.

 

The market is cast in red light, hazy.  I never knew all this was down here.  My eyes go everywhere at once.

Julian leads me into the smoke, around a bitter argument over the price of a twilight dreamfrog.  It’s pointless trying to make out anything more than silhouettes and glinting flashes of precious metal, but it is a crowd.  As soon as I have the opportunity, I pull Julian out of the fray.

“Dragging me into the shadows already, Sevrina?” he teases, “We only just got here.”

It’s hard to worry about his safety when his eyebrows are like that… he probably doesn’t care, but I do.

“You’re going to get spotted,” I whisper.

“Oh is that all?” he says reassuringly.  “Don’t worry, I used to be a regular customer here.  When it comes to medicine, there isn’t always time to waste on gentler treatments.  You’ve got to get the most effective stuff you can find, or go underground.  Forbidden leeches.  Their suck strength is incredible.  It’s a real tug of war getting them off.  I can show you around, and if you’re still worried about someone turning me in, well…that’s not really anyone’s agenda down here.  Who wants the whole place crawling with guards?”

He makes a good argument, but I press it just in case.

“What if there’s a bounty on your head?”  I ask.

This makes his face fall and his eye dart around in trepidation, scanning the smoke.  He hasn’t considered this possibility.

“Is there?”  He whispers, “A bounty on my head?”

Not that I’ve heard, but I’m learning there’s a lot I don’t know about in this city.  Julian bites his lip.

“Well, if you’re going to worry your sweet little head about it,” he says charmingly, pulling that dashing air of confidence back over himself, “You could put a spell on me.”

I smile.  I know just the thing.  The Nevermind Me spell.

I focus my aura into an egg over top of his head, crack it over his skull and let the Nevermind Me run down his face.

“That felt weird,” he whispers, “Did you change me into someone else again?”

I shake my head.  “No, you’re you—people just won’t mind.”

He laughs.  “Really!  Well, that’s a useful trick.”

I smile and squeeze his hands.

“You’re unusually powerful at this stuff, aren’t you, Sevrina?”  He asks with that note of mischief in his voice I love so well, “That’s…. Mmm…intimidating.  Maybe I’ll absorb some of your magical touch, I hear it can do wonders for patients, and perhaps in a different kind of bedside manner…”

I might be mistaken, but he hasn’t seemed interested in magic before.  If anything, he’s been a bit judgemental.  I wink at him to let him know I caught is innuendo, and we go back into the flow of near silent foot traffic.  But honestly, I wish he’d be more careful.

Eyes slide over us.  Some rove over Julian with interest before the interest fades.  The spell is working.

“Hey, you there,” Julian calls out with newfound fearlessness, “Ever heard of the Scourge of the South?”

A locust breeder barks back.  “The fighter?  He spilled more blood up there in the ring than anybody before or after.”

Julian rolls his eye.  “Oh, so he was a gladiator.  Big deal.”

“Big deal?” The locust breeder continues, “He was undefeated.  You’re not from around here, are you?”

The stranger’s patience wanes and Julian lets him shuffle away, but our conversation draw’s another’s attention.

“Fighter?”  Calls out a brine merchant, “He was an _executioner_!  His matches always ended the same way.”

“So people got bored of watching him win?”  Julian replies, “Tough crowd.”

The brine merchant nods.  “People wanted him taken out.  Everyone wanted to see that guy fall.”

Julian looks at me with an irritated expression.  “We’re looking for an _executioner_?  Is your master trying to say something?”

My expression falls and Julian immediately regrets what he’s said.

“I’m only joking,” he says apologetically.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sure there’s another reason he told you to find this Scourge of the South.”

Something catches his eye, just then.  Julian takes the crook of my elbow.

“Wait a minute—what have we here?”

I follow his eager swerve toward a shadowy entrance with a creaking sign overhead, hung on two meathooks.

“The Jagged Dagger,” Julian says with a grin.

There’s snarling inside, and a crash.  A glass eyeball rolls out of the doorway before our feet.  A salty seadog stumbles out after, pops the misty marble back into its socket and gives us a poisonous sneer before heading right back inside.  Julian is clearly intrigued, and I fill with trepidation.

“This is my kind of place,” he says with that loveable wickedness, “What do you say?  I bet there are lots of fans of The Scourge in there!  You’ve been looking a little grey since you cast that spell over my face.  I’ll get you a drink and something to eat.  Besides, I just can’t pass on a chance to get rowdy!”

I harden my stare and nod toward the entrance.  I think Julian’s hunch may be right—this could bring us valuable information on The Scourge.  Julian looks positively giddy as I give the go ahead, trailing after me as I lay my hand on the barely hanging door.

“You want rowdy?”  I say, trying to screw my up confidence, “Let’s get rowdy.”

“Oh, you spoil me,” he whispers delightedly.  “Lead the way.”

We manoeuver down the crooked stairs into a dark, roaring pub.  The air is briny and thick.  A silver tooth whizzes through the air past my ear, tankards are smashed against groaning tables the size of a horse.

“Lively energy, lots of movement,” Julian surveys, rubbing his hands together, “I love it.  Think they can fix a good drink?  What’ll it be, Sevrina?

A scraggly character beside me grabs a tankard, throws it back and immediately collapses, stiff as a board.

“I’ll pass,” I sigh, clinging to his arm and just wanting to get some information and leave.

“Really?  Change of heart, my Love?”  He mutters reassuringly.

_My Love_ , he said.  He looks at me and senses my discomfort in these surroundings.

“Worry not,” he says sweetly.  “I’ll just be a moment at the counter.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be asking about the Scourge?”  I whimper.

Julian nods.  “Yes, of course, but there’s always one person you can count on to know things, and that’s the barkeep.  I’ll ask, but in places like this, they don’t give information without exchanging money.  Don’t worry your pretty head.  I’ll order us something for us to eat, I’ll tip him very well and we’ll see what he knows.  Why don’t you find a seat and try to relax?  It will be fine.”

I nod and Julian excuses himself from my grasp to go to the counter.  I look around me, wide-eyed and nervous.  In the smoky environment, the other patrons move around me like stormy waves.  Scanning the room, I see a vacant table at the back, and decide to claim it for the two of us.  On my way, I trip over a mace on the floor and stagger into a very large man, causing him to spill his entire drink all down his chest and belly.

“You’ll pay for that, worm!” he shouts, grabbing a hold of me roughly then slamming me onto my back on the table and raising a massive fist in the air.  I yelp in terror.  It’s then that he realizes the mistake was made by a nervous woman, and his tone turns insidious.

“Oh, what have we here?”  He spurts drunkenly through his three remaining teeth, eyes now wandering my breasts.  “I know exactly how you can pay for that, little worm…!”

“Oh, but it’s I who’d like to pay for that!”  Julian shouts defensively, flying back to my side as the tension rises, sweeping me away from the brute just as he’s about to grope me. 

He lifts me to my feet quickly and I leap away from the angered stranger that blocks the scant light as he draws himself up to his full height to face Julian’s challenge.  Like a massive catfish disturbed from the muck, the stranger smacks his lips and gives Julian a yellow-eyed stare down. 

“What did you say?”  He says, throwing out all the intimidation he can muster.

“I said you’re not going to put your filthy hands on the lady,” Julian sneers.

“I wouldn’t have said that if I were you,” the massive stranger splutters, cracking his ghastly knuckles.

“So you _are_ going to hit me, then?”  Julian provokes.

The stranger swings, scaly knuckles meeting Julian’s left temple with an unforgiving, sickening smack.  I scream.  The side of Julian’s face is covered in blood from a split in his skin at his hairline, but he stands up, undeterred, and mockingly dusts off his jacket.

“That’s not bad, I suppose,” he says with a dismissive laugh, “I was expecting some ringing in my ears, though.  Why don’t you do it again, you disgusting, swine-faced choad?”

What is he doing?  Julian!

A tussle begins in earnest and I’m squeezed between muscular spectators who raise throaty howls of excitement.  I scream again.  He seems to be enjoying the thrill of the fight, flinging clever insults and goading on his opponent. It isn’t long before Julian is pinned to the ground, both crafty hands captured in one meaty claw over his head. 

“Well, is it all out of your system now?” he mocks, his bloody face smiling irrepressibly. I don’t know what he’s talking about until the stranger stands, looming over him only to take a step back. 

There’s a knife sticking diagonally out of Julian’s side.  Everyone’s fallen silent.  He bends at the waist with a soft groan to examine it.  He wipes his bloody brow, grits his teeth and takes a firm grip on the handle.  I can’t help but watch as he pulls it out, and wipes the blade clean on his cloak.

“Thanks for the souvenir,” he says with a throaty chuckle as he folds the knife and pockets it.   The crowd is silent as he gets to his feet. I can see the mark on his throat glowing under the collar of his coat as he comes swiftly to my side, I feel on the verge of tears.

“Don’t be upset,” he whispers, drawing me under his arm.  “I wouldn’t let that son-of-a-bitch touch you.   No man will ever lay a hurting hand on you as long as I can prevent it.”

I can feel my bottom lip sticking out in a panicked pout.  My eyes search Julian’s face for assurance he is alright.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he pleads.  “Let’s get out of here before I frighten someone.”

When we’re outside again, I wipe tears from my cheeks and Julian looks stricken.  I pull him into an empty alcove and check him over to make sure he isn’t hurt.

“Are you alright?” I ask in a shaky voice, examining his temple, “Are you hurt?”

“Shh, don’t fuss,” he says softly, wiping my tears away.  “The mark in my throat, Darling.  Remember the curse.  I’m good as new, I swear.  Please don’t be upset.”

I cling to his cloak and shake him.

“You frightened me,” I whimper, “Please, stop diving into danger, Julian, I’m begging you!”

“He would have hurt you,” Julian mutters softly into my hair as I cling close to him.  “I hate to think of what he wanted to do to you.”

“We didn’t even try to walk away once you got me away from him.”

He’s quiet for a moment and I pull back to look at his face.  He looks frustrated.

“Believe it or not, I _was_ trying to help,” he murmurs softly.  “I’m sorry, it’s just… You’re straining yourself with all this magic, and I’m just dead weight.  I can’t stand it.  I need to be useful.”

“Julian, you don’t need to be useful!” I say with frustration.  “You’re worth more to me than… random acts of usefulness!”

He looks at me, confounded.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Can’t you see I care for you?” I whisper, taking his face into my hands, “I care for you so deeply, I…”

I decide to kiss him before I confess the depth of my feelings in the heat of the moment.  He engages in the kiss with enthusiasm, running his hands eagerly up and down my back.  When we part, he looks at me with a tender, enamoured gaze.

“I care for you, too, Sevrina,” he murmurs.  “So much more than you know.”

We look at each other a moment and I pass my hand over his hair lovingly.

“Now, Listen,” I whisper mischievously, “If you can find it in yourself to behave, I promise I will find a way to reward you that you will find exceptionally agreeable.”

I wink, knowing he will respond to the innuendo.

“Oho, I could just die!”  He laughs lustily, “You’re a magician… a creative type… You could use me all kinds of ways… Any kind of way you wanted...”

I kiss the tip of his nose and he chuckles to himself mischievously.

“I promise I’ll make it worth the wait, Julian,” I say, trying to bring things back to the matter at hand.  “But I want you to follow my lead.  Will you do that for me, please?”

He nods, and his smile fades. “Yes, but it’s frustrating… I want to help.  This is my mess—you shouldn’t be the one doing everything to clean it up.”

“Alright,” I say, willing to strategize, “What are you good at?”

Julian laughs.  “I’m a schmoozer,” he starts with, “And correct me if I’m wrong, but not a terrible actor.  Oh, and I’m a doctor.”

I laugh softly, and take his arm.  He smiles rakishly.

“Just follow my lead,” I say, patting his hand with a laugh.  “When I need you, I’ll let you know, but until then, just let me help you.  I’m not asking.”

Julian nods.  I watch with amusement as emotions pass over his face, embarrassed to humbled to delighted.

“Alright.  I don’t mind letting you take the reins,” he whispers mischievously, “And that sentiment flows over to other arenas as well, my Little Sparrow.”

 

We skulk around the market for a while asking questions, but don’t have much luck.  Nobody has seen the Scourge in forever.  We’re almost all the way around the market when we get desperate for alternatives.

“If we can get something related to the Scourge, could you find him with that?” Julian suggests.

“That might work, Julian, good thinking.”

“So this magic makes you one part bloodhound?”

I can’t help but laugh.  I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or trying to figure magic out. 

Suddenly we’re called to by a memory dealer.

“Hey, you—asking around about the Scourge of the South?  It sounds like you’re my kind of rube.”

Julian stops and looks at him sceptically.

“We might be,” he says guardedly.  “What do you have to offer?”

The memory dealer spreads his hands.  “Only the finest in secondhand memories.  And I’m not talking third or fourth hand.  These come straight from the source.  Seen them with my own eyes.  And you can see them too... for a price.”

Julian laughs, “You want money, then?  Well, I’m after a bargain.”

“Oh and here I was, trying to make friends with the infamous Death Doctor,” the memory dealer sneers, “I was going to give you a dis... _count_.”

Julian laughs.  “Well, you can name your price after we look at these memories of yours.”

We’re led into a space the size of a closet.  It smells swampy and there’s a hole in one wall the size of a dinner platter.

“Just look into the memory hole and all will be revealed,” The memory dealer says with a sense of ceremony.  He slides a dusty partition over us and shuffles outside.  I hear a hacking cough.

“What’s that smell?” asks Julian.

“Aromatherapy,” the memory dealer calls in, “It helps the magic work.”

Julian gives me a look as if to ask if that’s true.  I give him a half shrug, half nod, and the space goes dark.  Red light comes from the hole.  We squeeze in close and watch the vision that plays before our eyes.  A heaving, panicked figure collapses to the sand, crushed under a weighty boot as the Scourge raises his axe.  Voices call out from every direction.

_You’re scum, Scourge!_

_Boo!_

And then Count Lucio’s nasal voice echoes through the Coliseum over the sound of the well-worn blade dragging across the sand.

“Who amongst us is booing my merciless champion?”  He cries, “Do it louder!”

The crowd goes into an uproar, their boos and loudest insults echoing as Lucio eggs them on.

“Yes, now carry out your dark duty, Scourge!”  Lucio cries, “Or shall I remind you of your onerous debt?”

The Scourge, who is a great hulking figure, looks desperate and defeated before steeling his gaze, and he heaves the axe over his head, bringing it down with a sickening thud.  The vision fades.

When we return to the present, I feel as if I just saw something not meant for eyes to see.

“Memories of the Scourge are really hard to come by,” the memory dealer says as he slides the screen away and ushers us outside into a larger room,  “This is the only one you’re going to find where you can kind of make out his face.  Want to know why?”  He pauses for emphasis.  “Because I have this!”

The memory dealer flips a knife out of nowhere.  Julian goes stiff as a rod.

“What if I told you this was the Scourge’s personal blade?”  The memory dealer goes in hard for the sell, “How many ill-fated throats have split upon it?  Obviously, it’s one of a kind, but for you, I’m willing to part with it.”

Julian looks to see my reaction, and then back to the memory dealer. 

“No deal,” I say.  “The Scourge wasn’t known for using knives.”

The memory dealer sneers and quickly recovers his façade.

“Ah, that’s what I was hoping to hear,” he lies, “There’s no fooling you.  That’s what I like to see—But this…” the dealer whips out a grey-brown sheaf of sealskin.  It looks nondescript, but it has a musty smell.

“This,” he continues, “I would offer no casual fan.  The Scourge’s loincloth.”

Julian laughs.  “Now that is a find!”

The memory dealer latches on to Julian’s attention and goes for the sale.

“That’s right!  Think of all the victims who bore witness to its unfathomable contents?”

Julian is still sniggering.  “I bet it still has an imprint!  What do you say, Sevrina?”

The dealer fully unfurls the loincloth before me.  It’s surprisingly short.

“Now, now,” Julian mutters as he gets a better look.  “The Scourge looked pretty big—this thing wouldn’t even cover _my_ modesty.”

“No deal,” I say, shaking my head.  “Stop wasting our time.”

The memory dealer knows he’s been figured out. 

“Alright, alright,” he says dejectedly.  “Keepsakes of this calibre are not meant for the unappreciative, but not even the most discerning fan would turn this away….Since I like you both so much, this is a one-time offer, just for you.”

He produces a boar bristle hairbrush.  The dealer offers it to me to peruse, changing his honeyed tone to a hushed one.

“This was his.  Genuine article—you can still see the hairs.  Now, do we have a deal?”

I close my eyes. I can imagine the steady sound of thick hair pulling slowly through the bristles.  If I hold it close to my face, I can imagine looking out through the curtain of an inky mane as trumpets blare.  This time, the memory dealer isn’t scamming us.

“Deal,” I say with a nod.

“Finally, someone who sees the value of such a treasure,” the memory dealer mutters, “This was the only personal item in the Scourge’s dressing room.  I should know, I took it myself.”

Julian takes charge of the transaction.  “And how much for this invaluable treasure?”

The memory dealer crosses his arms.  “How much do you have?”

Julian sighs and dumps a coin purse out onto the table.  That’s a lot of pirate gold.  The dealer is croaking weakly at the clinking pile long enough for us to find the ladder back upstairs.  Then we hear him shriek.

“This isn’t real pirate money!  The gold scratches right off!”

Biting his lip, and laughing lowly, Julian hustles me up the ladder out of the market.

As soon as we slam the trapdoor behind us, all goes quiet except for Julian’s ragged chuckling.  I raise a brow.

“Fake money?”  I ask, halfway between amused and disgusted, my laughter beginning to win the fight.

“Pirates must have stiffed me,” Julian deflects with a throaty laugh, “Who would have thought?”

We dust ourselves off and Julian helps me to my feet with a roguish smile.

“Where to now, my Little Bloodhound?”  He asks, ready for the next step, “What does the boar bristle brush say?”

I ignore his teasing aura and focus my energy on the object, holding it close, amplifying its vibration.  I feel a sensation gently pulling me, and I know which way to go.

“That way,” I say, and we start walking.  I follow the lead of this magic tether, and Julian follows, close at my heels.  It takes us past one of Vesuvia’s smaller markets, and at my urging, we stop for something to eat while we walk.  I don’t know how long it will be before we reach our destination, and keeping ourselves going is vital.  We’ll need the fuel.  After a few short minutes in the market, We leave with a string bag carrying half a loaf of seed bread, a few apples and pears, and a skin of fresh water.  Julian slings them over his back and I focus again on the boar bristle brush, leading us onward to the Scourge of the South.

Our path takes us surprisingly far, to the edge of town, the edge of the deep forest.

“Into the woods we go?”  Julian asks.

Into the woods we go.  It’s starting to get dark.

 

Darkness sets upon us as we enter the forest, swirling around us like a cloak.  Ahead, the path is swallowed by shadow.  A softly glowing ball of energy floats beside us, illuminating the forest with a sickly white tinge.  Above us, the sky trembles.  A few raindrops patter on our faces, the beginnings of a proper storm, and it is cold enough to see the vapour of our breath.  Julian offers me his cloak to keep dry, but I decline, too focused on the magic thread and not wanting to disturb our progress. He squints up at the clouds, the storm mirrored in his face, and then looks dubiously down on me.

“I don’t mean to be discouraging, but are you sure that spell’s working properly?”  He asks, his fatigue beginning to prickle into irritability.  We haven’t stopped to rest since the fight, and he’s stumbled a few times.  I know his body needs to recuperate after healing the knife wound, but we haven’t yet been able to stop and rest. 

“I doubt anyone lives this deep into the forest.  No one who wants to be found, at least,” he adds.

Julian’s right.  The only reason someone would live in these woods is if they wanted to be alone.  It’s the perfect place to run away from it all.

“Trust me,” I say, squeezing his fingers.  “We’re on the right path.”

Distant thunder rolls over the horizon, and suddenly the sky breaks, pouring torrential rain down onto our heads.  Julian swears, but his words are swallowed up by the noise.  With a grimace, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and ushers me off the path we’re following into a shelter of trees.  My magic tugs us further into the dense foliage, an invisible string leading us along through mud, roots and trunks of trees.  It isn’t long before my clothes are wet through and our hair is plastered to our faces.  Julian continues to follow, sheltering me as best as he can under his cloak, but it’s to no avail, I’m soaked to the skin and water squashes in my shoes with every step I take.  It’s cold, but I’m determined.

The string keeps tugging us onward until we reach a small clearing and see a hut made of rocks, covered in moss.  It’s nestled behind some trees, dilapidated and old.  The string stops tugging right at this door.  This is where my magic wants to be. 

Julian looks at me with a sense of wonder and disbelief, and rakes his soaking wet hair back away from his beaming face.

“Incredible… Is this is the place?”  Julian asks, his mouth twitching up into a smile.  His irritability has vanished.  When I nod, he grins broadly and knocks the door.  “Hello?  Is there anyone there?”

There is no answer.  We wait a minute and my teeth begin to chatter from the cold.  Seeing this, Julian tries the door, and it swings open slowly.

“Well, no use staying out here in the rain,” he says, ushering me under his arm, “Might as well wait inside.”

I shake my head in protest.  “No, Julian, we should wait—I have a bad feeling about breaking into a stranger’s house.”

“Nonsense,” Julian says chidingly, blinded to all other than my being cold, “The door was open.  Technically this isn’t breaking in.  Besides, I have bad feelings about things all the time.  The key is to ignore it or you’ll never get anything done.”

I frown.  “Julian, I just…”

“Shh, Sevrina,” he says softly.  “Listen—Asra knows this fellow, doesn’t he?  Don’t you think it’s probable he knows we’re on our way to see him?”

I stop and think.  Julian has a point. 

“Asra wouldn’t send us to look for someone he didn’t trust to help us,” I say softly. “Maybe you’re right.”

He smiles warmly.  “Then let’s go in.  I’m sure the Scourge will understand—It’s storming out here!  Now come inside, I don’t want you to catch your death of cold.”

He ushers me into the house with gentle prodding.  The interior is nearly as damp and dark as the forest outside.  There’s not much to look at, it’s decidedly sparse.  Roots from a great tree creep across the roof, twining with the support beams, slowly reclaiming the structure.  There are still embers in the small, sooty fireplace at the far end of the room, but they’re burned down to almost nothing.  It seems like it’s been a few hours since the hut’s occupant was home.

“Cosy, isn’t it?” Julian says, trying to convince the two of us that it’s better than out in the storm.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t have to stoop as he enters.  The space is cramped, but the ceilings are high.  There’s something familiar about this place.

“Looks like he’s still living here, at least,” Julian say softly.  “I don’t see any weapons around… Do you think he’s given up on the head chopping business?”

Julian looks around the hut, examining what few artefacts there are inside.  There’s a little carved bear statue standing in a small alcove under the far wall.  It’s brown and mottled, with a sad grimace painted on its worn face.  The paint is faded around the edges.

“Huh,” Julian whispers.  “I’ve got one just like it.  Mine’s a raven though.  Asra gave it to me…”

I open my mouth to respond, but a sneeze overtakes me instead.

“Oh, Sevrina, you should have taken my cloak,” he whimpers.  “I don’t want you to suffer on my behalf.  Come here, let’s get you warmed up.”

“Only if you join me,” I sniff.

“Feeling bold, Sevrina? He says mischievously.  “If you need a little extra body heat, I’ll be happy to share, my Love.”

_My Love_.  He said it again.

He rustles around, coming up with a big pile of furs. And drops them down in front of the fireplace.

“I know it’s no plush palace chaise,” he whispers with a wink, “But it’ll do in a pinch.”

I fuss about with spreading out the furs for us to sit on.

“Frankly, I’ve holed up in worse places than this,” he laughs, looking for something to stoke the fire, “At least we’re on solid ground as the storm hits.  I was in a shipwreck once, you know.  Washed ashore in Nevivon…  Ah, there’s an extra log—let’s see if I can get this fire back to life.”

“Come here for a moment, first,” I say, beckoning him to me.  He steps back to me and I brush my hands over his hair, his cloak, down his shoulders, using my magic to dry him from the rain.  He laughs softly.

“Much better,” he says, leaning in to kiss my forehead.  “The only remedy I had for wet clothes would be to pull them off and dry them over the fire, but since we’re in a stranger’s house, perhaps your way of handling things is a bit more appropriate…”

I wink at him and he watches me use the same magic to dry my own clothes and hair.  His gaze is so tender and it makes my heart ache in the most incredible way.

“It’s still cold in here, isn’t it?” he says, rubbing his arms.  “Let me see about that fire… Ah, if only we had some music, this would be really cosy, wouldn’t it?”

He pulls a knife from his pocket and uses it to pry some strips of bark from the log, and sets about using it as kindling to bring the fire back to life.  I get an idea and smile to myself.

“You want music?” I ask.

Julian casts a glance to me and smiles.  “Do you see an instrument in here?  I didn’t know you played.”

I don’t play any instruments, but I’m not a bad singer.   Much to Julian’s astonishment and delight, I begin to sing a bawdy song to make him laugh as I fluff up the furs and sit, and he continues to revive the fire.

 

_So, the sailor, being tired, well he hung down his head_

_And he asked the little maid to show him to the bed._

_Well she showed him to the bed like a maid ought to do,_

_And he said, "My little honey, won't you come to bed, too?"_

_And the maid, liking mischief and not thinking any harm,_

_Well she took off her dress and she rolled up in his arms_

_And what she did with him there, well I wouldn't tell here,_

_Oh, but how she wished that night could have been a long, long year…_

“Sevrina,” he breathes, suffused with irrepressible delight, “What a voice you have… Do you ever sing for an audience?  They’d love you at the Raven—you’d be a sensation!”

I laugh softly and shake my head.  “No, no… I don’t need an audience.”

“You’re a veritable siren,” he whispers, reaching out to kiss me.  “Oh, I’d follow that voice off the edge of the world!”

He kisses me ardently and then pulls back to look at my face.  He’s all smiles.

“You amaze me,” he whispers.  “You truly do…”

I kiss him quickly and point to the fire, laughing softly.  “Don’t let it die down, Julian.”

Still smiling, he sets about reviving the fire, crouching down in front of the fire pit while I sing for him.  After a few minutes, it is burning bright enough for the room to begin to feel warmer.  I hold out my hands to soak in the heat of the rolling flame, and Julian stands up to take off his cloak, and wraps it around me.

“There,” he says, pleased with himself, “I’m sure the Scourge won’t mind some company, if he is indeed coming back…. At least we have lit the fire.  That must be welcoming enough to return to…”

I shiver and reach out to tug Julian to sit down on the furs next to me.  He promised me some warmth.

He lands with a soft _oof!_ And sprawls out, making himself comfortable, resting his head in my lap like a pillow.

“How cliché,” he chuckles, “Two people, alone in the woods on a cold rainy evening, sitting in front of the fire.  Lucky for you, I like cliché.  Nothing wrong with the classics.”

He reaches up to cup my cheek, his touch is warm and his eye eager.  I press my cheek into his hand.

“Feel a bit better?”  He whispers.

“I’m alright, but your lips are blue,” I tease.

“Oh are they?”  He laughs, happy to play along, “What are you going to do about that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I play, “You’re the Doctor.  What do you suggest?”

“You minx,” he growls playfully, “Come here.”

We reach each other for a kiss, but I’m smiling too much, and I can feel his mouth break into a mirroring grin.

“Sevrina,” he mutters.

“Hmm?”

“Come here,” he whispers.  “Please.”

I pull off his cloak and recline on the furs, then tug Julian up to lay with me before spreading his cloak over us like a blanket.  He rests his head on my breast and I pull him close so that he drapes his arm over me and holds tight to me around my middle.  A sudden surge of warmth blooms in my chest, as the hunger in my body for touch is suddenly answered.

“Oh, my Little Rabbit,” he whispers softly, “If we manage to get to the other side of this and clear my name, I could see you singing to me on quiet afternoons…  I’ll play and you can sing…”

“That’s a beautiful thought,” I whisper, kissing his hair.  “I would love that…”

“Oh, yes, my Love, so would I…”

_My Love._  My heart feels like it’s doing backflips every time he says that…

“I could just fall asleep here in your arms,” he chuckles lowly.  “Now that the fire’s going, listening to your heartbeat, lying on a bed of furs… If someone told me I’ve died and gone to heaven, I’d be inclined to believe it.”

I rake my fingers gently through his hair and smile.  Can he possibly know the effect it has on me when he says things like this?

“You ought to rest a little,” I whisper, the euphoria of his embrace still washing over me.  “It’s been a long day and I’m sure you’re tired after using your mark...  I’ll wake you when the Scourge arrives.  Sleep a little, my Dear, I’ll keep you safe. I’ve got you….”

“Mmm,” he purrs.  “You petting my hair is so soothing… If you sang me a lullaby I’m sure I’d sleep like a babe...”

He turns his head slightly to press a kiss to my breastbone, innocent, languid and soft.  I kiss his hair and start to sing softly to him as I continue to run my fingers through his curls.  I feel his mouth curve into a lazy smile.  His gloved hand curls lightly around my upper arm and he caresses me idly, running his thumb up and down over the curve of my shoulder. 

The gentle weight of his body in this embrace makes all of the pain and loneliness of my life disappear.  In this moment, nothing matters to me at all except the soft puffs of his breath passing through my tunic to my breast, the spring of his unruly curls as my fingers pass through them, and the tender hold of his arm keeping me close.  The rest of the world and all of my worries are entirely eclipsed.  All that matters is this embrace.

He is still and quiet.  I get the feeling this is the most at peace he’s been in a long time, perhaps years.  His breathing is soft and warm and his gentle grip on my arm goes slack as he dozes.  I soften my song to humming until I’m sure he’s asleep and I go quiet, kissing the top of his head softly and whispering reassurances of safety to him while he sleeps.

I wonder what he would say if he knew this was the most intimate moment I have memory of.  I wonder what he would think if he knew how free and natural it feels to hold him against my breast while he rests his troubled head.  I wonder what he would think if he knew that I’m sure we’ve spent long evenings together just like this in the time of our missing memories.  I wonder what he would say if he knew that although he hasn’t confessed such feelings, in the moment I feel intensely loved…

Julian rests this way for a short while.  I try to keep still so that I don’t disturb him—He isn’t very good about getting the sleep that he needs and his body’s been through a lot today…

After a spell, he stirs softly, but doesn’t rouse.  He just shifts his head against my breast and his arms tighten momentarily around me again.  I try to soothe him back to a deeper rest by petting his hair, and then there is an ear-splitting peal of thunder which startles him upright.  I sit up and reach out to take his arm and quiet him.

“Julian, hush,” I say comfortingly, “It was just thunder—nothing to be afraid of...”

Suddenly, a hulking figure bursts into the hut, backlit by a flash of lightening. Julian leaps to his feet, ready to defend me, and casts his gaze about.

I tense, ready to dart if I have to.

“What are you doing here?”  The mysterious figure shouts.

“Who, us?”  Julian blurts stupidly, “Holy shit, you’re big, aren’t you… The Scourge, I presume?”

“That’s not my name!”  The man shouts, his anger rising. “Get out!”

He lumbers further into the hut, and he is so huge he seems to take all of the space of the cramped room.  Julian flies to my side and stands defensively in front of me.

Now that the man is closer, I can see something in his arms.  A shaking bundle of fabric and…fur?

The man notices me staring and glares at me, arms tightening around it.

“Julian, look” I prod.  We both realize it is an injured animal.

“What have you got there?”  Julian says softly, trying to seem helpful and not confrontational.

The bundle whines and pokes its head out of the cloth.  A wolf.  Her sable fur is spattered with flecks of blood, a maw dripping viscous red onto the floor.

“Is it hurt?”  Julian asks.

The man nods very slowly, staring at us warily.

“I’m a Doctor,” Julian offers.  “I may be able to help if you’ll permit me to look…”

“No, keep your hands off her!”

He sets the wolf down very gently in the furs.  The fire has already begun to dim again.  He hovers over her, nearly covering her body with his own.  Is he trying to keep her safe from us?

“We can help,” I urge.  “Please. We mean you no harm.”

The man looks even more startled to hear me speak, shying away from me.  There’s fear on is face quickly shut out and replaced with anger.

“Come now,” Julian pleads, “Let me help.  If I make it worse you can choke me yourself.”

Julian slowly takes his gloves off and hands them to me, holding his bare hands up in a submissive manner as he approaches them.  The man’s grip tightens, eyes narrowing.  He shakes his head, refusing to move.

Julian looks to me desperately for help.  “Sevrina?”  He gestures vaguely to the man.

What does he expect me to do?  I only have one idea to get him to cooperate.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t wait for you to return before entering your home, but we’re desperate,” I say, my voice shaking. “Asra sent us—I thought he would have told you, I shouldn’t have assumed.  He said you could help us.”

He starts at that, looking to me questioningly.  His face flushes.  I’m not sure if he is angry or embarrassed. 

“Asra sent you?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes,” I say desperately, “He told me you could help.  Anyone that Asra trusts, I trust, too… Will you trust us not to hurt her now that you know Asra sent us?”

Then, after a tense moment of silence, he moves away from the wolf and allows Julian to approach.  She snarls, baring her teeth and snapping at the air.  The large man reaches out, gently stroking her fur and calming her.

“Innana, quiet now,” he murmurs softly.  “He won’t hurt you.”  Then he shoots a stern look at Julian and adds through clenched teeth, “I’ll skin him alive if he does.”   

“Duly noted,” Julian mutters awkwardly.

After a moment, Innana settles and the large man silently motions Julian to approach.

Julian slowly drops to his knees beside her, and runs his hands ever so deftly over the deep gauges in her side.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers to her, “Stay still, I’ll take it away.”  He strokes the wolf’s head, murmuring low to her.  There’s a spark of nostalgia in his eyes.  “You must be in a lot of pain, aren’t you, girl?”  His gentleness makes my heart swell.  He closes his eyes, hands pressing lightly to the injured area.  The wolf whines, and the stranger stiffens, but he doesn’t move, just keeps stroking the wolf’s head. 

The mark in Julian’s throat glows and blood blossoms on his arms, long deep gouges like talons scraped across the skin, and then they too already begin to heal, slowly sealing in front of me.  The man surges forward, dropping down beside the wolf to check on her.  He opens her mouth, examining her teeth, and checks her eyes and ears as well.  Finally, he settles back, seeming satisfied.

“Thank you,” he murmurs reluctantly.

“No problem,” Julian smiles, “It’s what I’m here for.” 

He stands, swaying a little.  I rush forward to support him, and lead him to sit on a rickety stool.  I stand beside him and cradle his head against my breast in a brief embrace and tell him he did well.  There’s a long moment where none of us speak, quietly processing what just happened.

“So, er… Scourge of the South then, are you?” Julian blurts tactlessly.

The huge man looks sadly at the wolf and pets her hair.

“I don’t do that anymore,” he mutters.

“Oh, er…. Clearly,” Julian tries to backpedal. “Do you have a name, then?”

The large man sighs.  “Muriel.”

“Ah, Muriel… strong name… I’m Julian, and this lovely vision is Sevrina.  We haven’t met before, have we?”

Muriel still won’t raise his eyes to us.

“You said Asra sent you,” he grumbles. 

Slowly he turns his gaze toward me, a doleful look on his face.  He doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

“In a roundabout sort of way,” Julian grumbles, “I mean, he didn’t exactly give us directions…”

“How did you find me, then?”

I pull the boar bristle brush from my hip bag and take a step to hand it to him. 

“We used this,” I whisper.

Muriel looks stricken.  He reaches out, taking the brush delicately in his hands, and stares at it in disbelief before his entire expression changes and he throws it into the fire with a scowl.

“Where did you find that?”  he demands.

Julian moves to stand protectively in front of me.

“We… we took ourselves on a jaunt under the Coliseum, picked up a few souvenirs,” he tries to explain.

At the mention of the Coliseum, Muriel’s entire demeanour changes.  There is a very palpable tension in the air.  I cling to Julian’s arm.

“And what did you find out at the Coliseum?”  Muriel growls through gritted teeth.

“That’s just the thing,” Julian says, trying to calm him, “Hardly anyone could remember you at all.”

Tension leaves Muriel’s shoulders.  He lets out a low breath and stands.  Then he jerks his chin toward me with a gruff voice when he speaks.

“You, follow me.  We need some firewood.”

He trundles out of the hut without another word, leaving us baffled in his wake. We exchange a look and I move to the door, and Julian moves to follow.  I turn and put my hands up.

“Julian, stay,” I whisper.  “I will be alright.  I think he is overwhelmed.”

Julian looks at me helplessly, but deep down, he knows this course of action is right.  My intuition has not led us astray.

“If he goes to hurt you, I have a knife in my boot.  You scream as loud as you can,” He breathes.  “These long legs will get me to you faster than he will know what hit him.”

I nod and put a hand over my heart, then turn and follow Muriel out the door.

Muriel heads over to a little shed near the hut, with a pile of logs settled beside it.  He sets one on a stump, and pulls an axe from its resting place against a tree.  I watch his muscles shift and tense under his rain-slicked skin as he chops the firewood.  He is covered in deep scars.  He gathers the logs in his arms, and turns back to the hut.

“Move,” he says to me, and I step aside.  He gives me a wide berth as he heads back to the house, and I follow after a safe distance.  As we enter the small room, I see something glow on his bare back.

The mark is just like the one on Julian’s throat.

It flashes bright white.  Just then, Julian jumps up and stares at the both of us.

“Sevrina!” he calls out in a panic, rushing to my side, “Who is this big brute you’ve got with you?  Did he try to hurt you? En garde!”

Muriel rolls his eyes and then ignores Julian altogether as he heads over to the fireplace to build up the fire.

“Julian, he was just in here,” I say with disbelief, holding tight to his arms.  “Don’t you remember him?”

Julian looks aghast.  “What are you on about?  I think I’d remember such a….er… hulking presence.”

“You wouldn’t,” Muriel calls over to us, “People…forget me.”

Julian looks stunned.  “They forget you?  Just like that?”

He shifts a little awkwardly, then shakes his head and drops down onto a stool near a small table.  Muriel gives him a disgruntled look, then keeps poking the fire.

“Don’t you have… questions or something for me?”  Muriel suggests.

“Have we met before?”  I ask him.

“Yes,” he answers. 

I frown.  “I’m very sorry.  I don’t remember…”

“No one ever does,” he cuts me off.

Oh well, alright then.

“When did we meet?”  I ask, feeling guilty.

He doesn’t answer.

“How did it happen?”  I ask, changing course.

“I helped a friend,” he murmurs, “And I was rewarded in return.”

Julian and I both bear confused expressions.

“I asked for this,” Muriel clarifies.  “I want to be forgotten.”

I wonder what it would be like, to ask for something like that, and get it.  If it’s what he wanted…

“Muriel, are you happy?”  I ask.  My heart goes out to him.

“Happy?” Muriel repeats, taken aback by the question.  “What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, I keep asking myself the same thing,” Julian laughs, “Seems like we’re kindred spirits.”

Muriel shoots him an icy glare.  “No, we aren’t.”

Another silence falls over the hut.  I shift my weight, then head over to the table to sit down next to Julian.  Muriel hovers near the fireplace, glancing at the sleeping wolf in worry every so often.

“Well… Muriel…” Julian stammers, “Can I call you Muriel?”

That same dagger-like glare.  “No.”

Julian runs his hand over his hair.  “Alright then, let me just get to the point, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

He rummages around in his coat pocket and fishes out the key he found in the library yesterday.

“Do you recognise this?”  He asks.

Muriel looks at the key, but keeps a guarded distance.

“Yes,” he confirms.

“Oh, well….grand, then,” Julian says, waiting for him to continue and then after a pause, “Care to elaborate?”

Muriel sighs, his shoulders lifting up and dropping slowly as he gives Julian a begrudging nod.

“It was the night… the night of the fire.  Asra sent me to find you.”

“Asra was there?”  Julian is stunned.  “You were there?  You know Asra?  Why don’t I remember any of this?”

“You were locked in the dungeon,” Muriel asserts.

“Locked in the dungeon _before_ the murder?”  Julian says, struggling to understand, “What for?”

“I don’t know,” Muriel explains, “But I let you out.  I led you up to his room.  I… You know.  Him.  The room was already on fire.  You ran in, and I left.”

Julian is stunned and speechless for a long moment.

“The room was already on fire?” he whispers, “I’m innocent?”

He blinks owlishly down at the brand on his hand, turning it over in the firelight.

“I’m innocent,” he whispers again, barely audible.

One of his bare hands lifts to idly trace along the arc of his eyepatch.  The look on his face is stricken, yet a little hopeful.

“I… I remember now,” he says tremulously.  “I was in the dungeon that night, looking for a cure… I wasn’t making progress fast enough and Lucio locked me down there to incentivise me… He said it would keep me from being distracted…”

He closes his eye and then turns to me, looking at me with renewed hope.  Something bright dances in his eye.

“And Sevrina…” he says, grinning at me.  He pulls off his eyepatch and it flutters to the floor.  “I did it.  I found the cure,” he says.

I gasp.  The eye underneath the patch is whole and even working—I can see it slowly open from a squint as he adjusts to the dim light.  But it isn’t healthy looking.  The sclera is dyed a deep, bloody crimson.  The same colour as all of the plague victims eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” He breathes.  “I know this is what happens when you’re infected with the plague, but I’m not contagious… I was dying, and I found the cure, and it worked.  And it could be down there still in the dungeon…”

He sweeps me up into his arms so tightly that he lifts me off the floor.

“I knew it,” I heave, “I knew you were innocent…!”

He sets me down and looks back at me, his expression triumphant and vindicated.  My eyes well up with tears.  There’s a wide wonder in his face, like he can’t quite believe it himself.

“Sevrina, I didn’t kill the count,” he whispers, taking my hands earnestly, “That dungeon…It has everything.  My answers and my cure.”


	11. Wheel of Fortune

I hurry through the gardens, surrounded by birdsong.  I’m in too much a hurry to stop and smell the peonies this morning.  I don’t remember what triggered it, but last night, some of Julian’s missing memories returned.  On the night of the fire, he was locked in the dungeon, researching for a cure for the plague.  By the time he got to the Count’s room, it was already aflame. 

He’s innocent.  He has been all along.

Somewhere in the palace, that dungeon has his cure.  It might even have evidence of his innocence. It was too late last night to start looking, so we agreed to meet with Portia at her cottage today.  Julian slept there, and I returned to the palace to avoid raising suspicions. Portia said she had an idea and would have everything arranged for morning.

I can’t wait to see him.

As soon as I come into view, Julian leans out of the doorway. He isn’t wearing his eyepatch, and he is grinning broadly, both eyes glittering with joy at the sight of my face.  I burst into a run once I see him, and he steps out of the door as I rush directly into his arms, lifting me off the ground and spinning me giddily.

“There you are, my Little Rabbit!” he breathes into my ear, “Oh, my Sweet One, the night without you felt eternal…”

He sets me down again, but before we can kiss, Portia pops her head through the door.

“Get back inside before someone sees you!”  She warns in low tones.  She yanks him back into the cottage, safely out of sight of any possible passing guards.

“Hello, Sevrina,” she smiles once we are inside, “Perfect timing.  We’ve got lots to do today.”

Portia’s cottage is just as cosy and warm inside as it appears from outside.  The large windows let in plenty of light, though today the curtains are drawn for privacy.  A shovel with fresh dirt on the blade leans against the wall.  As I shut the door behind me, Pepi pops up from a pile of cushions on a chair, ears swivelling this way and that, and then she curls up again,  She looks like she’s sleeping, but one eye is open, still watching us.

“Alright,” Portia exhales, ready to get down to business.  “Today, some of Milady’s sisters are arriving for the Masquerade, so she should be distracted.  We’ve got to sneak Ilya into the palace, and search until we find that dungeon.”

“How exactly will I get inside?”  Julian asks.  “Another illusion, Sevrina?”

I shake my head.  “Last time, the spell wore off too quickly… we were nearly caught—it’s too dangerous.”

Julian taps his chin thoughtfully.  “Hmm, yes… that may make things difficult.”

“Well, luckily, you have a very smart sister,” Portia teases with a smile, “I’ve already got a plan.  Ian, you’re hired!”

Julian blinks.  “Come again?”

Portia laughs.  “I told everyone I hired someone to be Sevrina’s assistant for the day, so for today, you’re Ian!”

“That’s clever, Portia,” I say, watching her gather a bundle of clothes into her arms.  “You’ve got a disguise?”

Portia nods and smiles at me, clearly proud of her plan.

“But _Ian_?” Julian scoffs, “That’s almost as bad as _Jules_ , Pasha.  Gods.”  

Portia just shoves the clothes into Julian’s arms authoritatively.

“Oh, just shut your face and get dressed, Ilyushka,” she says. “Here’s a uniform.  I… borrowed it from the laundress.  I need to return this later, so please make sure you get it back to me undamaged and clean, okay?  If anything is missing, you can probably find a spare in my closet.  Oh!  I almost forgot—the finishing touch!”

She scoops up three wigs from the table, and adds them to the bundle of clothes.

“Pick whatever wig you want, just make sure it covers the right side of your face.  Now—“

A piercing squawk from outside cuts through the conversation.

“Oh, it’s that horrible bird again,” she groans.  “I swear, I’ll snap that thing’s neck one day….”

She trails off and shoos Julian behind a wooden screen to change.

“I’ll be right back.  Behave, you two,” she says with a wink.

Scowling thunderously, Portia grabs the shovel leaning against the wall, and rushes outside.

Cloth rustles behind the divider as Julian begins to undress.  I sink into a comfortable armchair to wait, tucking my knees up under me.

“So, big day today, isn’t it?”  Julian mutters from behind the screen.  “New clothes, lots of places to search, answers to find…”

I don’t have to see him to know he’s nervous, but he sounds excited, too.  It makes me smile.

“We’ll finally get some answers,” he says, “Maybe even some proof whether…. Whether…. Ahem.”

He clears his throat.

“I, ah… I seem to be having some trouble… think you could give me a hand, Sevrina?”

His voice lilts flirtatiously.  I’m sure that if I could see him, he’d be winking.

“Let me help,” I say as I pull myself out of the armchair.  I duck behind the screen, and when I see him, I stifle a laugh.  He’s started getting changed, but he’s tangled up in the uniform.  I can’t even tell how he managed it.

“You didn’t seem to have any problem with your coat,” I tease.

“Oh that?  Very simple fastenings.  Very quick to get on and off.”

From his contorted position, he waggles his eyebrows at me, and this time I can’t help but laugh.  His silliness is such a comfort.  His brazen mischief is so dear to me.

“Ah, that sound,” he says sweetly, “I love it… I want to make you laugh every day… But, umm… Not to ruin the moment, but I really do want your help.”

I nod, still chuckling.  “Hold still….”

He bites his lip as I step in close, undoing the tangled uniform and helping him out of it.  I turn the uniform this way and that, studying it… It’s hard to figure out which way is up.

“Trickier than it looks, isn’t it?” he says.  “Let’s take a look at one of Pasha’s spares and figure this thing out.”

He strides to the humble armoire and flings open the doors.  Without an ounce of hesitation, he starts poking through Portia’s wardrobe.

“Hmm…. She’s got a lot of clothes in here… Ah, here we go…”

He whisks out a hanger with a spare uniform, holding it out for inspection.  It’s covered in cat hair.

“Looks like Pepi’s work,” he laughs, “Brings out the texture of the cloth, doesn’t it?”

I laugh softly.  “I’ll be sure to tell her you said so, when she gets back.”

“Now, now,” he says, “Don’t be hasty.  At least wait until she puts the shovel down.”

Chuckling, he prods at the uniform on the hanger.  With a few deft movements, I untangle the uniform, and hold it up for inspection.

“That looks about right,” Julian says, eyeballing the two in comparison.  “Say, Sevrina, want to get more hands-on?  It’s _so_ difficult to put on, I don’t think I’ll manage it on my own….”

His teasing voice is warm with affection.

“If you think you can keep your hands off me,” I whisper mischievously.

“Oh, Sevrina, is that a challenge?”

“It will be worth the wait.”

“Oho, of that I’ve no doubt…”

Grinning slyly at me, he slips on the uniform and holds out his arms, inviting me closer.  I start fastening his buttons, working my way down the column.  The both of us go quiet, enchanted by the other’s nearness..  I watch the way his chest rises and falls with every breath.  Being so near to him fills me with longing to be closer.

“I hope that soon we will be able to steal away from all this danger,” I whisper, “And that I can undress you rather than dress you…”

He looks at me seriously, with desire in his eyes, and I know my longing is reciprocated.

“I should be so lucky,” he whispers solemnly.

He watches my fingers nimbly fasten gold button after gold button, then turns his gaze to my face.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”  He says contemplatively, “Not the whole dressing up and sneaking into the palace thing, but…”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if at a loss for words.  His cheeks flush and he drops his gaze to my hands again.

“When we were hiding from the storm in that hut yesterday,” he mutters lowly, then doesn’t continue, just lost in the thought.

“It felt good to be so close to you,” I murmur, “I loved the quiet, getting to hold you in my arms.”

He presses my hands to his chest with a tender urgency and gazes into my eyes with intense affection.

“Sevrina, that’s the most care anyone has ever shown me,” he whispers.  “Didn’t it feel right?”

I nod and give him a dreamy smile.  “Yes, Julian, it felt exactly right.”

“Sevrina, I care for you,” he whispers.  “More than you could ever know… It’s the first taste of happiness I’ve had in I don’t know how long… I want to be near you… I want to hear you laugh, I want to see you smile, I want… I don’t want to hide anymore.”

I reach up to put a hand alongside his beautiful, angular face.

“I care for you, too, Julian,” I whisper.  “Very much...  And when we clear your name, you won’t have to hide anymore…. _We_ won’t have to hide anymore.”

He presses his cheek into my palm. 

“I know,” he whispers.  “I think I’d like that very much.”

He eyes me curiously, sensing my trepidation.

“Sevrina, are you alright?”

I nod and smile faintly.

“I’m nervous.  This puts you in a lot of danger.”

He strokes my cheek softly.  “If it’s any comfort,” he whispers, “I really believe we will have some answers when the day is through.  Then, we can begin to make plans for better times.”

I nod.  I think he’s right.  And there’s only one way to know.

“I’ll cast a spell of protection,” I whisper, “One to help us find our way quickly, and get you back out of the palace safely.”

The last button slips into place.  Perfunctorily, I tug on the hem and sleeves, making sure everything lines up.  It sits well on his lean frame, despite being second-hand.  The measurements are almost exact.  He leans down so I can tie his cravat. His gaze wanders dreamily over my face, savouring the moment.  I fluff the fabric and tuck in the loose end of the cravat into his uniform collar.

“There we go,” I whisper softly.  “All buttoned up… You look very fine.”

“Thank you, my Little Star,” he whispers.

He smiles at me, and lifts a hand to touch my face.  The intimacy of the moment is still lingering in the air, and my hands slide around his waist to draw him closer.

“I haven’t kissed you, yet, today” he whispers, leaning down to meet my lips.  “How utterly stupid of me…”

The kiss is soft and tender, and all too brief, as we know there is much left to do.

“Portia gave you some wigs,” I say softly, drawing us back to the task at hand.

“Ah, yes, she did… but I don’t know which to use…  Why don’t you pick?”

I separate the wigs, laying them on a side table and examining them.  A blond ponytail with a bow, a brown , shaggy mane, and a shorter black wig.  I pick up the black wig.  I think it will draw the least amount of attention.

“This one,” I say.  Julian chuckles and takes it from me.

Outside, there’s another shrill shriek, followed by the sound of wingbeats.

“And don’t come back, you horrible bird!” Portia hollers.  Hastily I go back into the living room, leaving Julian behind the screen to put the finishing touch on his disguise.  Portia bustles in, putting her shovel back in the corner.  She sees the contemplative expression on my face and slows her pace.

“Oh… I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” she says softly, then with a sour note in her voice, “Please, _don’t_ tell me if I was.”

I laugh and she smiles at that.

“How’s the fit, Ilya?” she calls, “Don’t leave us in suspense!”

Julian appears from behind the screen with a flourish.  “Voila! What do you think?”

He strikes a dramatic pose.  The wig doesn’t look half bad, and he’s positioned it so it covers his red right eye.  But the sight of him with black hair is so out of the ordinary, Portia and I can’t help but burst into laughter.

“Oh, It can’t be that bad,” Julian mumbles, “Can it?”

“No, no, it’s perfect,” Portia says with a smile, “No one will suspect a thing.”

“We’re just not used to seeing you this way, Julian,” I add.

Portia, still snickering, beckons us to join her at the table.

“Alright,” she says with a renewed sense of business, “Gather round.  This is a map of the palace.”

The map is hand drawn, with notes and symbols scrawled on it.  Besides the normal hallways and rooms, it includes a number of secret passageways and hidden doors.  The servants must use these to get around the palace faster.

“I’ve never seen a dungeon or anything like that,” Portia states, “So it must be hidden somewhere.  The palace is full of secrets, like hidden doors and magic portals.  I’m sure there’s more I haven’t found yet, so we’ll search one wing at a time.  Stick together.  If we get separated, come straight back here.  Ready?  Let’s go.”

 

We go through the palace together, searching rooms and hallways as we go.  We’ve passed a dozen guest rooms, art galleries, storerooms and more, all unlocked by Portia’s keys, but we still haven’t found the dungeon.  Portia stops in front of an elegantly carved door with a prominent lock.

“Hang on, this may take a moment,” she says softly, “This lock always sticks.”

While Portia struggles with the door, Julian leans against the wall.

“Well, I suppose having the dungeon entrance out in the foyer would have been too eas—“

Suddenly, the panel he’s leaned against swings open, and he falls through a secret passage with a yelp.  The panel closes with a decisive click.

Portia looks aghast.  “That one wasn’t on my map,” she says.

She knocks on the panel, trying to figure out how to make it open, but it remains stubbornly closed.

“Well, I did say go back to the cottage if we got separated,” she mutters.  “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

We pass other palace staff in the hallways.  There’s no sign of Julian among them.  As we walk by, Portia calls out to a tall, slender servant dusting the baseboards.

“Clarette, have you seen a new face anywhere?  I brought him in today to be Sevrina’s assistant—He answers to Ian.”

Clarette shakes her head.  “I haven’t seen him, sorry.  Do you want me to go look?”

“No, that’s alright,” Portia says.  “But if you do see him, let him know to meet up with me, yes?  He’s probably lost in the pantry or something.”

I feel more worried with every room we pass.  Could he have run afoul of a guard, or even the Countess?  His disguise is good enough to fool a casual observer, but would it hold up under close scrutiny?

Portia stops me in a deserted hallway and comes close to me, taking my hands.

“Sevrina,” she says, “I know you care for Ilya and you’re trying to prove his innocence…”

“Yes,” I reply briefly, sensing she isn’t finished.

“How deep are your feelings for him?” she whispers seriously. 

Is she being protective?  I believe I can be open with her, so I will be.

“Portia I love him,” I sigh, my hands trembling in hers.  “I love him more than…. More than I’ve ever loved anything…”

Portia smiles at me and looks around, making sure we are still alone.

“So after this has all passed and he is free,” she says, her eyes glistening with emotion, “You could be more than my friend…  You _could_ be my sister.”

She squeezes my hands happily before I can comprehend the meaning of her words.

“I’m so glad you’re on his side,” she whispers.  “I just know deep down it will all turn out alright…. Have you told him you love him, Sevrina?”

I shake my head.  “No.  I don’t want to overwhelm him… I’ll tell him after we clear his name…. Please don’t say anything to him…I couldn’t bear to be pushed away.”

“Of course,” she says.  “I would never break your confidence.  I swear your secret is safe.”

She embraces me quickly, then pulls back and smiles.

“Let’s go and find him,” she says.

We decide to sweep the nearest hallways before heading back to her cottage, just in case he’s still in the palace.  Our eyes and ears are alert for sign of him.  I can feel my anxiety growing… Was he recognized?  Is he safe?

“Wait,” Portia stops us as we are halfway past a room.  “Was that him?”

That’s definitely Julian’s voice I hear, coming from the salon.  When we enter, my heart stutters in my chest.

“…I beat them back with my sparkling wit and dazzling feats of pugilism!” He’s bragging, “And, yelping, howling, they dropped their stolen salts and staggered away!”

He’s telling a story to a small audience.  An orange-haired stranger in colourful robes, perched in an armchair, a green-haired stranger, reserved and listening attentively, and a tall, stern-looking blond, standing at the door and looking thoroughly unimpressed.  All are beautiful women with warm, sienna skin.  As I enter, the blond turns to look at me, piercing golden eyes pinning me to the spot.

“Who are you?” she demands.

“Sevrina!” Breathes Julian.  “That is, I… Ahem.” 

He clears his throat, bowing deeply and sweeping his arm in a grand gesture towards Portia and I.

“Ahem… Announcing Sevrina, the magician trusted by Countess Nadia herself! And Portia, the Countess’ handmaiden.  O wise and fantastic magician, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Princesses Nasmira, Nahara and Navra.”

He motions to each princess as he names them, before straightening with a flourish.

They’re some of Nadia’s sisters.  Now that I’m realizing it, it’s easy to see the resemblance.

Nasmira turns to us with delight sparkling in her eyes, and a pleasant smile across her lovely, plump face.

“We have heard so much about you, Sevrina,” she says enthusiastically, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

Nahara, the blond, inclines her head politely and returns to her place by the door.

“Oh how wonderful!” Navara exclaims, “You have such a radiant energy!”

If Portia is startled by any of this, she doesn’t show it.  Her smile is as bright and welcoming as ever.

“Is there anything I can get you, Princesses?  Perhaps some refreshments?”

“No thank you,” Nahara says coolly. 

“Ian told us how you came to the palace, Sevrina,” Navra says with bubbling enthusiasm.  “What a riveting story it was!”

“I hope that you find that murderer soon,” Nasmira says sweetly.  “It weighs so heavily on Didi’s mind.”

Didi?  Could she mean Nadia?

Julian shifts his weight uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes.

“Nadia bears a heavy responsibility,” Nahara weighs in.

“We’re all so proud of her,” Nasmira says, “I can’t wait for the rest of our sisters to arrive—it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“They should be here in time for the Masquerade,” Navara says excitedly, “Perhaps we will still have time to redecorate!”

 “Oh, but Ian,” Nasmira says warmly, “Please do tell us another story.  It’s very kind of you to entertain us while we wait for Didi.”

Nahara is completely silent at this suggestion, but rolls her eyes.

How long has he been here?  Since we were separated?

“Of course!”  Julian exclaims, revelling in the chance to entertain, “Perhaps the most estimable Sevrina would like to sit with us a while?”

I smile and shoot Julian a pleading look.  They’re waiting for Nadia?  If that’s so, we can’t risk her getting a good look at him.

“I’m very sorry, Princesses,” I say, bowing my head, “But we have so much work to do today.  I’m afraid I’ll need to steal Ian away from you as I require his assistance.”

Portia’s smile doesn’t slip, but I think I see a flicker of relief in her eyes.

“Yes,” she says, “Terribly sorry to disappoint you, but it is such a busy day, today.”

Julian snaps back to the task at hand and bows graciously to the princesses.

“My apologies, dear ladies, I must answer duty’s clarion call.”

“Oh, you mustn’t let us keep you from your responsibilities,” Nasmira says with sweet understanding.  “Thank you so much for entertaining us!”

“Good luck,”   Nahara coolly adds.

Portia hustles Julian out of the salon, and I follow them out.  The moment the door closes, she lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.

“Oh, that could have gone so badly,” she exhales with feeling.  A melodic voice echoes down the hallway and Portia cuts herself off.  It’s Nadia.  She must be just around the corner.

My eyes dart to Julian.  His disguise is pretty good, but I’m not willing to gamble on it.  If anyone could see through him, it would be Nadia.

“Quick—find a way out,” Portia whispers.  “I’ll distract Milady!”

With a harried backwards glance, Portia scurries down the hall and around the corner.  The other direction leads to a dead end.  I cast out my magic, hoping for a miracle.

“Sevrina?”  Julian whispers, “What is it?”

I feel something… a tug in the back of my mind.  I whirl around.  A few steps away is a decorative arch, with a stone wall right behind it.  But it’s not just an arch…I can feel magic, so subtle I almost missed it, swirling over the wall.

One of the portals Portia mentioned—like the one in the library that got us to safety before.  I’m not sure where it will lead, but we’re out of time.   I grab Julian’s wrist and pull him with me, right into the wall.

We tumble out of the portal and land in a tangled heap.  Julian sits up, groaning, and my stomach drops.  I look around frantically.  His wig is nowhere to be found.

“Julian,” I whisper desperately, “The wig…”

He pats his head and frowns.  Then, with a sigh, he fishes in his pocket for his eyepatch.

“Well, it can’t be helped,” he whispers, replacing the eyepatch.  “Besides, my natural auburn suits me so much better, don’t you think?”

I look at him and my chin quivers.

“Hush, don’t cry,” he whispers, and pulls me into his arms.  “I’ll just have to be especially careful to avoid being spotted.  Lucky thing is nobody else is here.”

I look around the corridor.  It’s lined with portraits of the same blond man, all with the eyes gauged out.  An oppressive weight seems to press in all around us.  I can’t help but shiver.

“We’re in Lucio’s old wing,” I whisper.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Julian exhales.

A chill raises goosebumps on my arms, but I hesitate, my eyes fixed on the end of the hallway.

We didn’t get to search Lucio’s room thoroughly, either.  Not under Nadia’s watchful eye.  If Julian went from the dungeon directly to Lucio’s room, maybe there’s a passage in there?

The wing is deserted now.  We can search all we want.

Julian tugs my arm.  “Was that… No… it must have been my imagination.  It’s nothing… It has to be nothing, right?  Sevrina?”

“We should check Lucio’s room,” I mutter softly.

“Shouldn’t we go find Portia?”  He says, unable to disguise his fear, “Look somewhere else?  Maybe leave here and never come back?”

“Julian,” I urge gently, “We may find something we missed last time.  What if the passage to the dungeon is in there?

Julian looks at me desperately and then sighs.

“You’re right, Sevrina… I can’t put this off any longer.”

I take his hand and lace our fingers together. 

“We’re doing this together,” I whisper assuring.  “I won’t leave you, alright?”

He nods, and we start to walk.  Our footsteps echo in the empty wing.  I can feel eyes on us, but when I look around, there’s no one there.

The door to the Count’s room is ajar.  Beyond the threshold, there is only inky darkness.  Julian’s grip on my hand tightens as the door swings shut behind us.  Taking calming breaths, I focus, summoning an orb of light so I can see the lanterns…It’s harder than usual.  The darkness is stifling.

I light the lanterns from afar.  Their flames flicker to life one at a time, casting a hazy red glow over the room.  It looks like Nadia and the servants have finished their work in here… As the light returns, so does Julian’s curiosity.  He lets go of my hand and starts to explore the room.

“You know,” he exhales quietly, ever cautious, “Thanks to you, I’ve started to remember things.  But I still don’t have all of my memories yet.”

He reaches out, running his sensual fingertips along one of the bookshelves lining the wall.

“I’ve spent so long wondering about what happened here,” he says, “I thought maybe, if I came here and faced the past, I’d find some kind of absolution.  But now that I know I arrived after the fire started, I can see it for what it really is.  Just an empty, dusty room.”

Julian falls silent, staring up at the towering portrait of Count Lucio on the wall.  The last time we were here, Portia was cleaning this portrait when that strange, white shape knocked her off the ladder.  I didn’t get a good look at it, but I haven’t forgotten that grisly man-goat I saw on the first night here, although until then I’d assumed it was part of an exhausted dream after a long day’s travel.  I didn’t have time to absorb the details of the portrait, then, but now I study it carefully.

The crimson coat, the intricate golden arm, the sumptuous fur, the victorious pose.   Vanity.  Pride.  Power.  Looking at it, I think I can imagine what kind of man the Count was in life.  But something about it strikes me as strange.

“Sevrina,” Julian says as he joins me at my side, “The portraits in the hallway all had their eyes gauged out.  Why   is this one different?”

Suddenly we hear a sound and fly into high alert.

“What was that?” Julian whispers in a panic, aware his disguise is lifted.  A shiver goes down my spine.

The knocks came from outside the room, but I didn’t see anything that could have caused them.  Then, three of the lanterns sputter out, casting Lucio’s portrait in shadow.

Julian looks visibly rattled.  His eye darts frantically around the room.

“I’ll bet that’s just Pasha trying to trick us,” he says, but he looks shaken.  “Let’s get out of here.”

He approaches the door, reaching for it with trembling fingers.  Just then, outside, someone slams a fist into the door with a thunderous impact.  Julian backpedals so quickly he almost falls.

“We know you’re in there!”  Calls the voice, “We can hear you!”

“Fuck,” Julian breathes.  Heart hammering in my chest, I shove him behind a chair, out of sight and raise a finger to my lips indicating that he should be silent.

“It’s terribly rude to make us wait so long when we’ve been so patient!” Another voice calls.

“Stop ignoring us and open the door, Lucio!”

What?

The door bursts open, and I hastily step in the doorway, blocking the entrance.   I am looking into the faces of two of Nadia’s courtiers—Petite Procurator Volta with the watery eye and Pontifex Vulgora, dressed head to foot in scarlet with striking, stylized rouge on their face.

Why were they shouting for Lucio?

“Oh, you’re not who I expected!”  Volta exclaims.  “Who are you?”

Vulgora roughly pushes past Volta and smiles at me.

“Magician,” they say shrewdly, “Why are you here?”

“The Countess asked me to investigate the murder,” I reply, thinking fast on my feet, “It wouldn’t be much of an investigation if I didn’t study the scene of the crime.”

“You’ll need to investigate later,” they growl.  “We have business here.  Step aside.”

Vulgora grabs my shoulder, the tips of their gauntleted fingers digging in painfully, and tries to shove me aside.  I cry out in pain, but I plant my heels, determined not to move.  Julian’s life depends on it.  My heart is pounding in my ears, but I will not be moved.

“I am here on command of the Countess,” I assert, whining through the pain, “And I won’t leave here until I have found something to report back to her…”

Vulgora sneers at me.  “I expect it would be easier to report anything you find if I _didn’t_ tear your throat out— don’t you agree, little witch?”

I swallow hard to supress my fear and meet their gaze directly.

“Pontifex, with all due and exceptional respect,” I entreat, “You must allow me to do my work.  The Countess will be exceedingly offended if I’m not allowed to do so, and I wouldn’t want her to take her crossness out on her adoring court…”

Suddenly Volta starts to sniff the air, turning her head this way and that.

“Oh, do you smell that, Vulgora?” she asks.

Ice-cold adrenaline runs through my veins.  She can’t possibly smell Julian, can she?

“Food!” she cries despairingly, “Oh it must be lunchtime with the Countess!  And I’m famished!  Starving!  So very, very hungry!”

She tugs frantically at Vulgora’s sleeve, staring eagerly down the hallway, practically salivating.  Vulgora smacks away her grasping hands, snarling in frustration.

“Shut up, Volta!” they growl.

“Please, please, dear Vulgora, we must go!” Volta cries, hysterical tears brimming in her eyes, “Oh, we must find the food before it’s all gone!”

Volta scuttles down the hallway, still sniffing the air and tugging Vulgora’s robes, and Vulgora turns a poisonous glare to me.

“We were never here, magician,” they say in a low, threatening tone, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll crush your skull myself.”

With one last sneer, they turn and the pair stalk down the hallway.  I close the door firmly, and once they’re definitely gone, Julian comes out from his hiding spot, looking visibly shaken.  He rushes to my side and turns me to face him, checking my shoulder with trembling fingers.

“Are you alright?” he breathes, his eyes searching me all over before landing once more on my face.  “Did they hurt you?  Are you alright?”

“Shh, I’m alright,” I whisper.  My shoulder is sore where Vulgora dug their claws in, but I’m just unsettled, not hurt.  He clasps me to him fast and kisses my hair, sighing in relief.

“Oh Sevrina, if anyone hurts you, I’d….” he trails off.  “Gods, I don’t know what I’d do… It killed me to stand aside…”

“Thank you for keeping a cool head,” I whisper emotionally.  “That would have been so much worse if you acted rashly and revealed yourself… I couldn’t bear for you to come to harm, Julian.”

We cling to one another for a brief moment, and he draws away.

“The sooner we get out of here, the better,” he says, “We should keep looking.”

We continue to search the room and he says softly, “Those wretched people, I think I remember them… aren’t they courtiers of the palace?  Them, Valerius, Vlastomil and… and Valdemar.”

He shudders, raking his hands distractedly through his hair.

“Valdemar... Gods, I’m glad they aren’t here..… They used to run the research for the plague… We were… we were working on a cure for the plague…. Underground….”

Grimacing in frustration that borders on pain, he winces and presses his fingers against his temples.  I go to his side and run a hand comfortingly back and forth over his shoulders.  Then suddenly, he bolts upright, his eye wide.

“I remember how to get there,” he breathes forcefully.  “It’s in the library, Sevrina!”

Julian dashes past me.  Caught flat-footed, I have to scramble to keep up as he bolts out of the room and down the stairs.  The hallway is mercifully empty.  As we turn the corner, we almost collide with Portia going the other way.  Miraculously, she is alone.

“Ily—I mean, Ian!  Sevrina!” Portia exclaims.  “What happened? Where the hell is your wig?”

“Pasha,” Julian says, “Just who I wanted to see—I remember how to get to the dungeon.  There’s a secret passage in the library.  Do you have the keys?”

Portia nods, overwhelmed. 

“Good, good,” Julian says.  Let’s go, quickly!”

Julian rushes off, leaving Portia and I chasing after him.  By the time we reach the library, my legs are burning with the exertion.  I stop to catch my breath while Portia opens the complicated locks on the library door.

“I’ve never heard of a secret passage in the library before,” Portia says.

The doors open. We’re in.

“Valdemar insisted on secrecy,” Julian explains.  “None of the palace staff knew about it.”

Julian hurries to a bookcase, running his fingers along the book spines and muttering to himself.

“Let’s see… it was red leather… black with gold—aha!”

He pulls on three books, one after another.  They tilt, but stop without fully coming off the shelves.  Then, a section of the bookcase slides open, revealing a dark, unlit passageway.

“I can’t believe it,” Portia whispers, wide-eyed, “It was here the whole time…”

Julian’s eye is light with the thrill of discovery, but peering into the darkness, I only feel dread.

“I’m remembering, Sevrina,” he says with feeling, “More and more…. I know the answers are down there.”

I do my best to swallow my fear and focus on clearing his name.

“Then let’s go.”

Squaring my shoulders, I call up an orb of light.  It casts flickering shadows over the tunnel walls.

“I’ll stand guard up here,” Portia says, “I’ll make sure no one follows you.  Be careful, you two, please.”

"I promise, Pasha,” Julian says softly.  “We will be back before you know it.”

Together, we descend into the tunnel.  It’s dark and damp.  Unfinished dirt walls press in around us, and tangled roots dangle from the ceiling.  But as soon as we step foot on the dirt, Julian goes rigid, then dashes into the darkness.  I stumble on the uneven floor more than once, but Julian is sure footed.  He seems to know the way by heart.  It seems like hours, though it must only be minutes, before we emerge into a larger cavern.

“There…. Ah… There should be torches somewhere here,” Julian mutters as he searches through the gloom.  I concentrate hard, making the orb of light larger and brighter, until I can see where I need to aim. The torches are old, but there is enough fuel to light them easily.  They form two rows, lighting a path to a mechanical contraption in the centre of the cavern.  Julian hesitates to approach it, his shoulders going tense with discomfort.

I interlace our fingers and he gives me a strained smile.  He grips my hand tightly as we approach it.

It’s not until we’re right in front of it that I realize its purpose.  It’s a massive, magically powered machine, designed to raise and lower a cage barely big enough for one person.  The cage is surrounded by a metal enclosure with some kind of locking mechanism.  The crude gears and pulleys are caked with rust and grime—it looks like nobody’s been down here in some time.

“This…” Julian whispers, “I know this…  It’s an old nightmare.”

Dread skitters long fingers down my spine.  The longer we stand here, the more certain I am—somewhere below this cavern… there’s something deep, and dark, and terrible.  Julian seems to feel it to, or perhaps he’s remembering it.

His eye darts around the cavern, chasing every flickering shadow.  With a deep breath, he fishes in his coat and pulls out the key that he took from his desk.  The red stone set in it glimmers sullenly in the torchlight.

“Here it is,” he sighs, trying to screw up his courage.

The enclosure’s locking mechanism has a rusty plaque with a keyhole bolted to it.  Julian bends close, and reads it aloud.

“ _Bloody hands may turn the key.  Know the weight of your sins, and enter_.  Well, that’s rather unpleasant, isn’t it?”

“Let me try,” I ask.  He gives me the key and I insert it into the keyhole, but it catches and won’t turn, no matter how hard I try.  I can’t force it.

“Sevrina,” he says solemnly, “I think it has to be me.”

When Julian turns the key, the rusty mechanism groans to life, and both the enclosure and cage doors open.  I gasp. He stares at the cage, his expression stricken.  He looks so afraid, of himself, more than anything else.  It makes me ache to see him look so distressed.  I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, trembling.

He curls his arms around my waist and presses his cheek against my hair, breathing me in.  After a moment, he speaks.

“I’ve been asking myself a question over and over again since last night,” he says softly.  “Even if I didn’t kill the Count, what am I guilty of? I’ve never been able to shake the awful feeling of guilt from some unknown sin of mine… I’ve forgotten so much.  Even though my memories are coming back, I don’t remember entire years.  Sevrina, what did I _do_?  Maybe I didn’t feel any better in Lucio’s room because that’s not where my crimes are….Maybe they’re here, at the bottom of this pit.”

Before I can stop him, he pulls away from me and takes a step backwards into the cage.  The moment he does, the cage door closes with an almighty _clang_ , unyielding iron bars separating us.

“Time to face the music,” he whispers.  He’s putting on a brave front, but his hands are shaking.

Before he can say anything else, I reach between the bars and lay a finger on his lips.  When I lean forward, he bends to meet me halfway.  He caresses my cheek lightly, almost delicately, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he presses too hard.

I draw back and he breathes my name into the space between us.  He slips his arm through a gap in the bars and wraps it around my waist, pulling me close.  The bars are cold, but his lips are soft and pliant against mine.  When we finally part, he rests his forehead on the bars.

“A kiss for luck,” I whisper, shaking, terrified of the unknown just beyond...

“Ah,” he breathes, “Now I really don’t want to leave…”

Julian gazes longingly at me through the bars, studying my features like he’s committing them to memory.

“Thank you, Sevrina,” He whispers, his voice shaking with a flood of emotions.  “I would have never gotten this far without your help—without you.”

We stare at each other wordlessly for a moment, and he looks up at me, his eye glossy with tears that haven’t yet broken down his cheek.

“I’ve done a lot of things I regret,” he murmurs, “Things I remember, and I’m sure, things in my lost memories.  But I don’t—I couldn’t possibly—regret meeting you.  Every moment I have with you is a blessing.”

I’m standing before him weeping silently, sensing he isn’t finished.

“I want you to know, Sevrina… I want a future with you.  More than anything…. I know it sounds crazy to say these things right now, it’s been such a short time we’ve known each other, but I…  I’ll find some way to make our future happen, no matter what it takes.  I promise.”

“I want that, too,” I whisper, reaching out to take one last touch of his hand.

“No matter what happens next, what horrific things I may find,” he whispers as a tear finally breaks and roll down his cheek, “I want you to be sure in your heart that I love you.  More than my own life.”

I lean through to kiss him one last time.

“I love you, Julian….”

He manages a half smile and stands back, readying to pull the lever that will make the cage descend.

“That is all I will ever need to know to be brave,” he whispers, putting a hand solemnly over his heart, an action I mirror.  “I love you, Sevrina.  I will see you soon.”

He pulls on a lever inside the cage, and the mechanism comes to life in a cacophony of metal.  Gears grate against each other, years of rust flaking off.  Pulleys and cables rattle alarmingly, but amazingly, it still works.  The enclosure door screeches as it closes, narrowly missing me.  I have to shout to be heard above the din.

“Julian, when you get down there, send the lift back up for me!  Whatever’s down there, we’ll face it together!”

With a shuddering groan, the lift descends, taking Julian out of sight.  The machinery rumbles and clanks for a minute more, and then comes to a screeching halt.  Then silence.

Without a way to tell the time, I don’t know how long it’s been.  I asked Julian to send the cage back up, but the vast machinery remains silent and still.  I pace in front of the empty enclosure.  I don’t even know how far down the lift goes.  My thoughts chase each other in circles, returning always to the image of Julian descending in the cage.  Alone.

Suddenly I hear shouting somewhere in the tunnels.  I know the voice.

“Portia!” I call back.

I hear an answering shout, then footsteps, growing louder.

“Sevrina! You’re alright!” She breathes, “I got worried, so I came down to look for you, and…Ilya, where’s Ilya?”

“He went down in the lift,” I groan, wiping my eyes.

“By himself?” she says in shock.

She rushes past me, towards the empty enclosure.  When she approaches the elevator, she spots he plaque.  She leans close, mouthing the words to herself, her eyes going wide in shock.

“Oh, Ilya,” she exhales.  “I bet he took one look at this and decided to go down alone.”  Her expression changes to one of sympathy rather than frustration.  “It’s just the kind of thing that would make him think he’s a really horrible person.”

She takes a deep breath and turns her back on the elevator.

“Sevrina, we should head back to the cottage like we agreed,” she says bravely.  “Maybe this time he’s there already.  Come on—I bet he’s there, spoiling Pepi and wondering why we’re not back yet.”

Her smile is wobbly, but genuine.  I nod, and we start the long trek back through the tunnels.

“I just hope he doesn’t do anything reckless,” she admits with a tremble.

“He said he wants a future with me,” I breathe, my tears returning. “That he loves me.”

“Oh,” Portia says with surprise.  “He doesn’t usually think hopefully about the future…but you’ve changed that…”

She stops in her tracks, and turns to me.

“Some way, somehow… I can’t help but feel this is all going to turn out alright,” she whispers.  “We’re going to clear his name, and then the two of you can start your future.”

I nod and manage a weak smile.  Then Portia embraces me, then steps back, smiling brightly.

“Just remember—if there is one thing Ilya’s really good at, it’s getting out of sticky situations.”

This draws from me an unexpected laugh.  I dry my tears and tell myself to face the wait for him with courage.

We walk back up through the library in relative quiet.  When we emerge into the library, orange light is streaming through the windows.  The evening sky is streaked with fiery colours as the sun sits low in the sky.

“I’ll be happy to see him safe and sound,” I whisper.  “I’m so afraid, Portia…”

She puts an arm around me, comforting and warm.  “He was telling me last night how he feels about you.  I know my brother, and he meant what he said to you down there….  Hold tight to that thought and let it give you courage.”

We finally emerge from the palace and into the gardens.  The setting sun paints the garden in a warm, hazy light.  I can smell the sweet perfume of the peonies as we get nearer to the clearing.  It’s not much further to Portia’s cottage, but there, sitting on the lip of the fountain, is Nadia.

“Milady!” Portia stands at attention.  The Countess stands and turns to us.

“Portia, and Sevrina—just who I was hoping to find, although it seems you have found me.  But why are you covered in dirt? What happened?”

“We were searching the palace, Milady,” Portia manages to squeak out.  “For the investigation.”

“I see,” Nadia says, turning to me. “Tell me, what have you found?”

My thoughts race, but I feel strangely calm.  There’s plenty of evidence casting doubt over Julian’s role in Count Lucio’s death.  I just have to convince Nadia that something’s not right.  I hope she is receptive.

“Magic was involved in the Count’s death,” I say softly.  “I don’t believe it was a straightforward murder.”

Nadia looks surprised.  “Oh? Go on, Sevrina.”

“Strange things have been happening in the Count’s room.  When I was there with you, Portia and… Asra, Portia’s ladder was knocked over by a strange white figure.”

“Is that what that was?” Portia asks,

“There is some powerful magic at work, Nadia.”

“I admit, I’d begun to think something strange was at work,” Nadia says softly.  “I… noticed something odd when we were cleaning the room that day—Only Lucio himself burned.  The sheets and furniture were intact.  That was no ordinary fire.”

I nod.  I think she may believe me.  I press it home.

“Doctor Devorak can’t cast magic,” I explain, trying to remain calm.  “Just ask the townspeople who used to know him—he’s famously sceptical of it.”

Nadia raises her eyebrows.  “I wasn’t aware of that.  So someone else must have been involved… How troubling… Perhaps there’s more to this mystery than I thought….I hope I can rely on you to help find the truth of the matter.”

Yes.  She believes me.

Before I can say anything further, there’s a sudden commotion in the garden.  Guards shout in alarm, metal clatters, footsteps rush towards us, and Julian bursts through the greenery, carelessly shoving branches aside.  He has discarded the servant uniform somewhere and is wearing his own things.

“Julian!” I cry, unable to hold it in.

“Oh!” Portia breathes.

Julian’s eye darts over my face, and then Portia’s.  I see a brief spark of relief in his expression to see that we are alright.

And then he pushes us both aside, out of his way.

 “I’m not here to talk to a couple of strangers,” he says, scoffing at us and approaching Nadia.

What is he doing? I have a terrible feeling about this.  My stomach immediately knots up, making me feel ill.

“My word!” Nadia exclaims, taking a step back in alarm. ”Is this—“

Julian throws his arms wide, his cloak billowing dramatically around him.  My blood runs cold.  I see my own dawning horror reflected on Portia’s face.

No, Julian…. No, please no…  _No._

He can’t possibly be here to…

“Countess Nadia, ruler of Vesuvia!” He calls loudly.  “Your guards and magicians have failed to find me, but at long last, after all these years, the search is over.”

Julian, please don’t….

“I, Julian Devorak, have come to turn myself in for the murder of Count Lucio!”

Suddenly I feel weak, and everything goes dark.


	12. Justice

Last night after I fainted, Julian was arrested and taken away in chains.  I wasn’t awake when they took him away, but I was told he insisted on making sure I hadn’t hit my head in the fall before he would let them shackle his hands.  After I was revived, I couldn’t sleep a wink.  Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.  The way he looked at me before his proclamation of guilt—what was he thinking?

This morning, the palace is quiet, but buzzing with barely-restrained tension.

If Portia and I are going to save him, we need to act quickly.

I arrive at Portia’s at the break of day.  It appears her night has been as restless as mine.  She is crying when she opens the door.  We look at each other for a silent moment, both chins quivering, and she waves me into the cottage.

“I can’t believe he had time enough to plan his big entrance, but not to talk to us first!” she sobs.  “And after telling me how he loved you, all the talk of the future… Oh that idiot brother of mine…! I swear I’m going to twist his ear next time I see him!”

And then, she adds, heartbreakingly, “ _If_ I get to see him again…”

“We have to figure out what happened,” I say, feeling every part of me just going to bits.  “Something in that dungeon must have made him think he was guilty…. but I know he’s not!”

“We’ve got to get him out of there before it’s too late,” she whimpers.

“I’ll talk to Nadia,” I say, clasping her hands.  “She seemed receptive to my line of thought before he arrived… I’ll try and convince her again.”

“Good idea,” Portia nods.  “I know she puts a lot of weight on what you have to say.  You may be able to get somewhere with her…. and if you can convince her that he’s innocent, I’m sure she would reconsider… and she will know where Ilya’s being kept.  Meanwhile, I’ll work on a backup plan… if things go wrong, we’ll need to get him out of Vesuvia right away…”

I embrace Portia, and do my best to assure her.

“I’ll tread cautiously with Nadia,” I whisper.  “Trust me… I love your brother.  I couldn’t bear to see him hanged.”

 

When I find her, Nadia is sitting at a small table on the veranda, gazing thoughtfully over the garden.

I get the feeling she is waiting for me.  When she sees me arrive, she smiles warmly and motions to the chair opposite her. 

“Ah, Sevrina,” she says, “Take a seat, I’ve just started breakfast.”

I try to quell the fine tremor in my limbs, and sit down, exhaling a shaky breath.

“You took quite a tumble when you fainted last night,” she says softly.  She seems concerned.  “But then, it was an incredible shock…. Are you feeling alright?”

I take a deep breath.

“Countess, I still have questions,” I manage to exhale.

“I have questions, too,” she says, “You’ve raised some interesting points about the chain of events leading up to the murder, after all.”

I must look a little relieved that she said it first.

“Sevrina, please eat something.  You’re not ill, are you?”

To appease her, I take a flaky pastry from the spread on the table and begin to eat it, but I’m in knots.  I stay quiet, and Nadia pours me a cup of tea.

“Thank you, Nadia,” I say softly, graciously accepting the cup and saucer.  “I’m not ill… I’m only… very concerned.  If I have conducted an investigation that will lead an innocent man to execution, I couldn’t bear….”

My voice catches.  Nadia looks at me with a questioning in her eyes that is not unkind.

“You believe that Doctor Devorak is innocent, don’t you, Sevrina?”

I nod.  “Yes.  I’d stake my life on it.”

“Why then, would he come into my garden to profess his guilt if he’s innocent?”

I shake my head.  “I don’t know.  But it doesn’t change my belief in his innocence.”

She looks at me a long moment, noting my trembling hands as I try to quell my nerves and drink the tea she’s given me.  I thank Gods I’ve managed to keep my tears in check.

“Calm yourself, Sevrina,” she says softly.  “I have something to tell you… I’d told you before that I’d planned to hang Doctor Devorak straight away once he was caught, but I’ve reconsidered.  He will have a trial.  As part of my reforms for this city, I am establishing something based on a Prakran custom:  A trial by jury.  This will be the first case in Vesuvia to see a court of law.”

I am listening, but my head is spinning with worry, and it takes me a moment to realize what she’s saying.

“You’ll be able to present your case to the people,” she clarifies.  “They will decide the verdict by popular vote.  I’ll be making the announcement soon—you will have to the afternoon to prepare.”

Convincing an entire crowd will be more difficult than convincing Nadia directly, but at least I’ll have a chance to defend Julian.

Nadia looks at me curiously.

“If you’d like to question the Doctor himself, he is being held in the dungeons underneath the Coliseum,” she says.  “That place has been abandoned for years—hopefully it will find new purpose as a place of law and justice.

“Thank you,” I whisper, unable to muster my full voice.  I stand and bow my head to her respectfully, and then run off as fast as my feet will go.

 

Outside the palace walls, life proceeds almost as usual.  Many townspeople are already up and about, but today, the chatter is a little different.

“Did you hear?  The Count’s murderer got arrested!”

“Of course, but I heard he turned himself in.”

“What?  No!  He charged through a dozen guards to try to kill the Countess!”

Rumours spread quickly, though the story has gotten distorted along the way.

The Coliseum looms ahead of me. The arena is entirely empty, except for a guard at the doorway that leads underground.  He salutes me nervously and steps aside, allowing me to pass, then follows me down.

This looks like a different part of the Coliseum’s underground than the red market.  It’s a wide corridor with cells on either side.  Most are in disrepair, littered with debris, but one of the cells has been fitted with a new door, with a barred window I can look through.  It contains a bedroll, a chair, an untouched tray of food…

And the man I love, manacled to the wall.

There is enough slack in the chains for him to move around, but not to reach the door.  He’s pacing, keeping his head down, muttering to himself.

My heart lurches at the sight of him this way.  I do my best to disguise this in the presence the guard.

“I’d like some quiet to question the Doctor,” I try to say authoritatively.  “I would appreciate it if you left me to do my work for the Countess.”

The guard nods his head.  “Yes, great Magician.  Please don’t hesitate to shout if you should need assistance.”

I stay behind in the corridor until the guard is back up the stair, and then I turn to the door and take a breath for courage.  When I push open the cell door, Julian looks up.  Worry, fear, affection flash across his face in rapid succession.

“Sevrina,” he breathes, struggling to keep his face from breaking.  Then, as if remembering himself, he clears his throat and schools his expression to neutrality.  “I, um.  You’ve come to hear my confession before the trial, have you?”

“Drop the act,” I demand in frustration.  I seem to have taken him off guard.  For a moment, his villainous façade cracks, but again he recovers and looks at me with a mask of cool indifference.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says calmly.

“You’re innocent,” I assert.

“Innocent?”  Julian says with a laugh.  “I’m not innocent.  Not by a long shot.”

“I know you, Julian,” I whisper.

“You think you know me? You don’t know the first thing about me….what I’ve done, what a _monster_ I am.  This is long overdue—shouldn’t I face justice for my crimes?”

I feel a hum in the back of my mind.  It’s coming from the cards in my hip bag. It seems like the Arcana have something to say.

“Why don’t we ask the cards that?” I suggest.

He scoffs.  “Really?  You’re going to tell my fortune _now_?”

“Humour me.”

I sit on the floor and shuffle the deck.  Julian watches me but dares not come closer. I turn a card.

“Justice, reversed,” I bite through my desperation with as much calm as I can muster.

“See, what did I tell you!  This is justice, isn’t it?”

“Let me finish!” I shout, at the end of my ability to be patient.

He goes silent, and for a moment I think I can see the regret and anguish in him, though I still don’t understand his motive.

“Justice’s message is simple and clear,” I say, my voice catching repeatedly, unable to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks.  “Bias and chaos run rampant.  Truth and objectivity have fallen by the wayside.  Justice cannot be built on falsehoods.”

I gather my cards with a pang and try to squash down my desperation as I wipe my cheeks.

“What if… What if everything I’ve ever done has been built on falsehoods?” He asks beseechingly.  “What if you don’t know me at all, and I don’t want you to know the real me?”

I don’t understand what he’s getting at, and it’s killing me.

“You deserve better than that, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “After everything I’ve done, you should wish you’d never met me.  I bet you regret it bitterly.”

“That’s not true!” I shout in my frustration.

“Even now?” he asks obstinately.

I don’t feel any regret.

“Yes.  No matter what happened, I forgive you.”

“Ah, but I don’t forgive myself,” he sighs, “And I’m not asking for your forgiveness.”

I’ve shown all the restraint I’m capable of.  It is taking every last bit of my will to keep from running at him and clinging to him, demanding to be hanged at his side if he doesn’t stop this ridiculous charade.

“I just want you to be honest with me.” I heave.  “Tell me what you found in that dungeon.”

Julian looks prepared to comply, though I don’t think for a moment it will be that simple.

“Well, I kept an old office down there.  I—” he stops, jerking his head in shock.  His eye goes wide with horror and realization.  “No. No, you’ll get nothing more out of me, Sevrina.  Besides, don’t you want to hear how I murdered the Count?”

I can’t help him and I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clear he isn’t going to answer my questions.

“Well, if you won’t tell me, there’s only one thing left to do,” I sigh, gathering my hip bag and fastening it around my waist again. 

Julian looks undisguisedly alarmed.

“Wait,” he calls.  “Wait, wait—Sevrina, what are you planning?”

“I’m going to see that dungeon for myself,” I say in a tone reflective of my biting frustration.

“No!” he shouts.

Just like that, his villainous façade cracks apart.

“No, no please don’t go down there, Sevrina!” He’s flown into a full-blown panic. “It’s dangerous—you could get sick, and I couldn’t…I can’t…” and he tries to settle himself.  “You can’t get down there, the key won’t work for you.  You couldn’t possibly be as bad as me, Sevrina.”

“You don’t know that,” I say simply.  “ _I_ don’t know that.”

He looks at me in confusion.  “What?”

“I’m missing memories too, Julian,” I say softly. “I don’t remember anything before three years ago.  Every time I try to remember, I get headaches so severe they’re crippling.  Maybe my past is as bad as yours—maybe worse.”

“You, but... How did… When?  That’s…”

Some realization strikes him, and his next words come out in a rush.

“That’s even worse!  Sevrina, it’s absolutely vital that you listen to me!”  His façade has completely shattered and his panic has returned.  “If your missing memories, these headaches, are anything like mine—and I’m not saying they are, but they might be—then if you remember, if you get those memories back, you could get hurt!”

I know those headaches well.  They do hurt, but not knowing hurts, too.

“I have to go,” I whisper.

“Wait!” he cries.  With a rattle of chains, he lunges away from the wall.  He can’t get to the door, but he can reach me.  He looks down at his hand, wrapped around my wrist.  He loosens his grip until he’s just barely holding onto me, but he _is_ still holding on.

“Please wait,” he whispers hoarsely, his throat catching.

“I’m listening,” I whisper, looking at him pleadingly.

“I’m sorry, Sevrina,” he says, unable to muster his full voice.  “I know this is the exact opposite of what you wanted… It’s the opposite of what I wanted too, but… I ran from Vesuvia for years, but that night… it haunted me, no matter where I went.  When I came back, I just wanted to see everyone I knew, say goodbye.”

A wistful smile touches the corners of his mouth.  With trembling fingers, he cups my cheek.

“And then I met you,” he breathes.  “I don’t want to hurt you, Sevrina, I know that must be difficult to believe,  but I never would want to hurt you… I’ve just been running from the truth for long enough….Last night, I…well, I realized what I have to do.  I suppose that’s why I really came back in the end.  To do the right thing.”

“Right or wrong, I love you,” I say quietly. “I can’t bear for you to suffer…  I can’t bear to lose you—Is that so hard to believe?”

Julian looks at me with a sadness I can’t measure I words.

“It’s not you I doubt, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “It never was.  Just myself…. And my biggest fear is coming true—aren’t I dragging you down with me?”

His words trail off into silence as I touch my fingers to his lips, hushing him.  He closes his eyes at the touch and  presses his lips against my fingertips, softly and repeatedly kissing them with a reverence I’ve not seen him display before.  He opens his eyes and looks at me, mesmerized, then hesitates, and his face shows only uncertainty.

“Sevrina, I…”

It seems like he still has doubts.  If my words can’t get through to him, perhaps my actions will.

I run my fingers along his jawline, then take his face in both hands.  He looks at me with something like wonder in his eyes as I close the distance between us.  My lips brush lightly over his.  Trembling under the touch, he closes his eyes.  Then he surges forward, wrapping his arms around me, curling his fingers over the nape of my neck, he brings our lips together again and again.  He groans softly, lowly in his throat, and presses his other hand flat against the small of my back.  When we finally part, he blinks at me, his eye heavy-lidded.  He is wound up tighter than a spring, but I feel some of the tension melt away as he holds me.

“Sevrina, I love you,” he whispers, his voice catching.

We stand together for a long moment in silence until I gather the courage to break the embrace.  I don’t want to leave him here alone, but I know in my heart what I have to do.  If I’m going to exonerate him in the trial, I need answers.  He clutches at my arms like he can hold me back, but I muster the resolve to pull away.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this, Julian,” I say, stepping away.  “I love you.”

He reaches out for me again, as I close the cell door between us.

“Don’t go!” he calls out.  “You can’t get down there, and even if you can, it won’t help!  You’ll get hurt!  Sevrina, come back! Sevrina!”

His desperate entreaties fade behind me, knifing me every step of the way.

 

The journey to the library passes in a haze.  I can’t banish the echo of Julian’s desperate voice from my mind.  There’s no time to waste.  I need to open up that secret passage and search this dungeon…

I cast my mind back to last night, and pull the trick books out again.  Red, leather and…

“Black with gold?”

An oddly muffled voice speaks right in my ear.  My heart nearly leaps out of my chest.  I whirl around, my pulse pounding, my every instinct screaming I’m in danger.

I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t feel anything.

The presence in front of me… is a void.  In a surgical mask.

I recognize them.  It takes me a few frantic seconds to dredge up the memory.  I met them when Nadia introduced me to the courtiers in the salon, although the soft lighting there did nothing to show me the sallow, greenish colouration of their skin.  Valdemar made me feel uneasy then, but the feeling I have now, in such close proximity, is nothing short of terror.

“Quaestor… Valdemar?”

“Exactly so,” they say pleasantly.  “Looking for the dungeons, are we?”

Their presence is deeply unsettling, but I can’t turn back now.  I breathe deep and think of Julian….

Now that I think of it, didn’t Julian mention Valdemar yesterday? Maybe they could take me down there.

“Yes,” I mutter, “I’m looking for evidence about Julian… Doctor Devorak’s work.”

They tilt their head in an unnatural way.

“Doctor…. Hmm… Doctor Devorak?  Ohh, wait.  Doctor number 069, yes, yes.  How wonderful, how delightful, I haven’t taken anyone down there in _ages_.  You simply must let me give you the full tour.”

They lean forward until their face is just inches from mine.  I note uneasily that they don’t seem to blink.  I step back, and hit the bookcase.

Reaching over my shoulder, they deftly snag the last trick book, and tug it out partway.  The doorway to the tunnel slides open behind me, and I stumble backwards into it.

“I do so love it when guests are excited,” Valdemar says, sliding around me, and stepping into the tunnel.  “Hurry, then. Such a lot to see today.”

Despite my sense of foreboding, I gather my courage, and follow.

I have to know.  For Julian.

As we enter the secret passage, I stumble over the uneven floor in the dark as I attempt to keep up with Valdemar’s long, silent strides.

“Ah,” Valdemar says mechanically, “You need light, don’t you?”

I try to ignore the frightening insinuation that they don’t need light as they pluck a torch from an alcove and light it, then continue deeper into the tunnels.  I have a feeling they would know the way in the dark.

The lift looms ahead of us in the gloom. The place Julian first told me he loved me, where his pleading eyes stared at me desperately as he promised me a future…

 Valdemar pauses in front of it, running their fingers along the plaque.

“Oh, isn’t this plaque just an inspired decorating choice?” They say, “They were all scared of it, the silly little ducklings.  How terribly gullible they were.”

Valdemar plucks a key from their pocket.   From the glimpse I get, it matches Julian’s.

“Wait!” I implore.  I wanted to try the key again, but Valdemar is already turning it in the lock.  The mechanism, screeches as the door opens.

“Did you need something?” Valdemar asks.

“Yes, I—“

“I don’t actually care,” Valdemar cuts me off.  “Go on, now.”

Reluctantly, I step into the cage.  The doors screech shut, and I pull the lever inside.  Metal rattles around me and I descend into the darkness. 

“Julian,” I whisper to myself, trying to quell my terror.  “Do this to save Julian… Have courage for Julian…”

As soon as I step out of the lift, it clangs back up again.  I can barely make out vague shapes in the gloom, but when I try to summon light, it’s like the oily darkness around me stifles it.  My fear obstructs my focus, and my magic sputters weakly and dies.

The mechanism rattles again, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle as Valdemar steps out.

“What a cosy ride,” Valdemar said with sickening sweetness, “Come along, there’s a lot to see today.”

They briskly stroll down the long, narrow hallway, lighting other torches as they go.

“So, you have questions about Doctor number 069, do you?” they prompt me.

I have so many questions that they almost run together.  Maybe I should start with something simple first.

“Maybe you can tell me,” I say softly “What did he do exactly?”

“Oh, this and that,” Valdemar answers.  “I didn’t pay much attention to what he did.  No more than the other doctors.  As I recall, he was always working with leeches.  He thought blood was the key.  If you want specifics, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“Can you recall what he was like?  Personality-wise?”

“What an odd question,” Valdemar says with an unsettling tilt of their head.  “He was always the funny one, telling little jokes and stories, anything that came into that vapid head.  I suppose he was popular enough with the others—he did something I’ll never entirely understand for their morale.  All I needed for morale was simply to be in this inspiring place.  I don’t see what they found so grim about it.” 

At the end of the hallway, a massive metal door looms ahead of us.  Valdemar pushes it open and leads me into some kind of macabre dressing room.  There are heavy, stained aprons on hooks on the wall and racks of tools.  Valdemar puts the torch in a holder by the door and turns to look at me with their bright, unblinking eyes.

“Now please, hold all questions for the end of the tour,” they say.  “But first.”

Abruptly, they step uncomfortably close to me and use their hands to approximate the measurements of my torso and arms, and then, just as quickly, they sweep away towards the equipment.  They pluck one of the aprons down from the wall, and scoop up a familiar, beaked mask from a rack.

“Let’s get you some safety gear, shall we?” Valdemar says eagerly, “It will heighten the marvellous experience you’re about to have.” 

They eye the fit of an old apron covered in ink and old blood stains.  It’s a struggle to hold still while they clasp me into the apron and mask.  Even through their gloves, their hands feel icy cold.  I grit my teeth… I’m down here for answers, and if this is how to get them, I’ll cope for Julian’s sake.

“Ah, perfect, how nostalgic,” Valdemar says delightedly. “Now, right this way.”

They unlatch the other door, and push it open.  I catch a whiff of stale, fetid air from inside.  The lingering scent of the dried-out herbs in the mask barely covers it.  Barely.  Valdemar stops in the doorway, turning to face me.

They pull their mask down to uncover their face, and take a deep breath of the rancid air.

“Ah, much better,” they say.  “And now, the main attraction.”

They walk backwards, into the main chamber, arms outstretched in eager presentation.

The first thing I see is a circular, raised stage in the centre of the room.  A metal table with ragged leather restraints is positioned in the middle of the stage.

“I see you’re admiring the stage,” Valdemar says, “We had such fun shows here—very enlightening, yes, very good practice. “

“What… were you practicing?”  I ask hesitantly.

“Why, medicine, of course!” Valdemar answers sharply.

“And Doctor Devorak?” I ask further.

“He preferred working from observation,” Valdemar clarifies, “Always sketching away.”

To my left is a row of tables similar to the one on the stage.  Each is surrounded by trays of tools, bowls and jars.

“Here we have the vivisection tables,” Valdemar says dreamily.  “They doubled as dissection tables, after a certain point.  Very secure, especially once we reinforced them.  I didn’t mind when patients wiggled, but some people said it was harder to see what they were doing…”

My revulsion rolls through me like a chill…what part could Julian have ever played in a place like this?

Valdemar gestures with a flourish, to a row of cages.  They are miserable, cramped and large enough to hold a single person.  These weren’t designed for long term imprisonment.  My heart feels like it could fall right out of me.

“This is where we kept the patients,” Valdemar explains giddily, “And the doctors, once they became patients.  There was talk of moving the infected doctors elsewhere—apparently their presence was… uncomfortable for the others.  But the plague ran its course too quickly to justify the trouble…Oh, but this is my favourite part—what a treat you’re in for!”

Valdemar pulls a rusty old lever.

“I do hope they’re still doing alright down there,” they say exuberantly.  “It’s been a while since they’ve eaten.”

What… are they talking about?

On the other side of the room is a half-circular pit set into the wall. Its lid slides into a recess, the work of whatever mechanism Valdemar activated.  As it recedes, I hear a strange rustling sound from inside the pit.  No—not rustling.  Clicking.  _Skittering._   Hundreds of red carapaces shimmer in the torchlight as beetles swarm over stark white bones, picked clean, and from the sides of the pit, red water drains through channels bored into the stone.

I’ve seen that red water before… back when I saw Julian toss away his mask down to the eels.  Red water was flowing from a drain in a forgotten corner of the castle, polluting the aqueduct supplying the city.  Which means… this must be the source.

“Marvellous little creatures, aren’t they?” Valdemar chirps, “So fascinating, so lethal… So effective at disposal.  But not everybody appreciates a good show.  So many people got squeamish when we tossed the bodies in—I’ll never understand why.  There’s hardly anything more fascinating than seeing a cycle of nature complete itself in all its raw, deadly poetry.  Well, now, you’ve had the full tour.  Any questions, comments, concerns?”

“Why would he do this?” I ask softly.

“Why?  Why do you need a why? What why, besides a love of science?” 

I steel my nerves.  I may not like the answer, but I have to ask.

“What reason did he give, then?”

“You weren’t here during the plague, were you?” Valdemar asks, folding their arms and trying to understand my concerns.  “This was no silly head cold.  Years of people feeling a little under the weather on day one, and being dead by day three.  Do you know—we ran out of room to bury them all, so we burned them.  Even then, bodies piled in the streets faster than we could cart them away, and everyone still breathing was just a corpse in waiting.”

From anyone else, the words would sound funereal, but Valdemar’s eyes shine with a fell glee.

“Against those thousands, what’s a few more bleeding out a little early in pursuit of a cure?  Necessary sacrifices, hmm?  Ends always justifying means… Ah, I miss those days… Though, I suppose Doctor 069 was the same way as you seem to be, always rattling on about consequences—It was always ethics this and morality that!  He even went to the Count with his concerns, but of course, the Count knew everything we were doing.  Honestly, he could have learned so much if he took part in the vivisections, but he refused to approach the tables until after the patients were dead, and then he made notes.  He was always fussing about bringing water and bread to the patients, trying to see to their comfort when they were going to die anyway—such silliness.  What a waste of time and medical talent—if only he’d have been more receptive to my guidance, I know he would have made a true mark on his profession with this research.  What a waste.”

Despite everything I’ve seen so far, I feel like I haven’t gotten the answers I want.  What did Julian see down here to make him confess?  He mentioned his old office… Maybe there’s a clue there.

“Was he in his office during the Masquerade?” I ask.

“Yes, locked inside.  He’d come down with a little case of the plague, you see—such a shame that he was one of the few who survived it. I was looking forward to prying open that skull… Then again, today might be my lucky day after all.”

I try to hold on to my resolve and finish this task without panicking.

“Which office was his?”

Valdemar tilts their head towards a barred wooden door on the far wall.

“He left a number of personal effects.  I never understood it, but I suppose he was attached to them.”

I approach the door.  A barred window is set into it at eye level.  Inside, I can see a cot, a desk, a few shelves… it looks lived in, almost homey, if such a thing is possible.  The longer I look, the more strongly I feel it.  A sense of peace.  This must have been his refuge from the horror outside.  I can feel an echo of his presence worn into the very stone.

Somewhere inside are answers that can help me.

Long fingers close on my shoulder, and Valdemar leans on me, peering into the room.  I pull away, startled.  They don’t move.  Apparently leaning on nothing, watching me with a ghastly smile.

“Let me inside,” I say softly.

“Oh?  Well, suit yourself,” Valdemar says as they unbar the door and let me in.

“I’ll just be out here, overcome with sentimentality,” They say.

The moment the door closes behind me I cautiously lift the mask away from my mouth.  The air inside is stale, but not nearly as putrid as it is outside.  Relieved, I tear off the mask and examine my surroundings.

The room is small, cramped and damp, but somehow it still feels cosy and welcoming.  There’s a cot in the corner, rumpled from hours of tossing and turning.  A set of crooked shelves are mounted over the cot.  One holds a row of bottled leeches, long since shrivelled up.  The other supports little hand carved trinkets, a few moulding books.  A desk is shoved up against the wall, papers scattered haphazardly on it.  The inkwell is toppled over, and the quill is discarded carelessly to one side.

I try to imagine what it was like, working in here, death looming over my shoulder, knowing that beyond the castle walls, Vesuvia was dying, crumbling under the onslaught of the plague.  It must have been oppressive…

I can picture Julian sitting at his desk so clearly that for a moment I think he is really here.  My magic tugs at the back of my mind.  _I’ll show him to you_ , it whispers.  _I’ll show you._   It’s a voice I’ve heard in the tarot deck before…  If I focused a little more, maybe…

I close my eyes, concentrating intently on my mental image of Julian.  Here.  Sick, sitting at his desk, working.  Searching for a cure.  A wave of dizziness washes over me, and when I open my eyes, I see Julian, right where I’d imagined him.  For a moment, I miss him so much I can barely breathe. He’s hunched over his desk, muttering and swearing to himself, writing notes and scratching them out feverishly.  His brow is beaded in perspiration.  He sniffs and his eyes are puffy—he’s been weeping.  Every now and then, he looks up to the door to his office, then shakes his head and returns his attention to his notes.  The sclera of his right eye is crimson.  With a sudden, sharp gesture, he flings the quill aside and knocks over his inkwell.

“No, no, _no_!” he shouts in frustration.  He claws his own hair then covers his face.

“No, it’s all wrong.  It should be working, why isn’t it working?  What am I missing?  I have to think… before I can’t anymore… I can do this.  I can’t—I won’t let it end here…I need to persevere….for _her_ …”

He laughs unsteadily, the laugh melting into tears, hunching forward, curling around himself protectively.  After a moment, he unfolds a piece of notepaper on the desktop and caresses it as his welling eyes wander over the message it holds.  I can’t see what’s written on it, but I can guess it’s a message that means a great deal to him.  His next words come out soft and pained, in a strangled whisper.

“Is this… is this how you felt?”  He asks the air, directing his question to the writer of the note.  Heavy tears run down his cheeks.  “Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry…. Do you know how sorry I am?”  He sobs uncontrollably and clutches his chest over his heart with both hands, and after steadying himself, sighs softly as he brings the note to his lips, “Oh Gods, can you still feel how I love you?”

He passes a hand over his face and hair, his cheeks pink and wet with tears, and exhales deeply.  His head droops—his fatigue and his obvious grief are overpowering him, and he slumps over the desk.  His sobs overtake him again and he weeps into his arms for a short while before he steadies his breath.  The desire to comfort him surges through me, and I find myself reaching out for him, but my hands pass through him, without any effect.

That’s right… it’s only a vision of the past…No matter how real it seems, I can’t do anything for this memory of Julian.

He seems to settle to sleep a few moments later, his exhaustion overtaking him.  He rests this way for several minutes, murmuring unintelligible things in his dreams, until suddenly, he bolts to his feet, knocking his chair over in haste.

“That’s it!” he whispers with startling alertness, “That’s…. that’s it—I’ve got it!”

The vision fades.  Frustration boils in my blood.  I reach out with my magic, trying to recall the vision, but the room remains still, silent, until the whisper of magic speaks to me again.

_There’s more to see…_

I cast my gaze about for anything out of the ordinary.  Now that I’m looking for it, there’s something strange about the far wall.  The chalk has faded with time, but if I focus, I can still trace a familiar outline.  It’s the symbol I saw alight in Julian’s throat when he healed me.  The mark of the curse, his ability to take other’s wounds onto himself and heal from them.  But why is it here on this wall?

My mind races.  Julian never did tell me _when_ Asra gave him that mark, or how.  Could it be that it wasn’t Asra’s doing at all?

Filled with a surge of energy, I turn to search the room again, looking for something—anything—related to it.  My eyes catch on a stack of books on the desk.  I scatter them across his desk, dusting off the covers, and stop when I find the same symbol, emblazoned in silver on a book cover.  I open it, scanning the contents.  It’s in a language I can’t read, but I have seen these words before in one of Asra’s books, back at the shop.  From the looks of it, it’s been here since Julian was working on the plague.  What was he doing with it?

Questions swirl in my mind, and somehow, I know the book has more than one secret to show me.

I page through it swiftly, letting my intuition guide me.  There are notes scribbled in the margins, in Julian’s now familiar handwriting.  It’s hard to decipher his more frenzied scribblings, but if I focus, I can make out some of the words.

_That dream…. Fever, chills…delirium or portent?_

_Keep seeing.. symbol…raven’s head…. What does it mean?_

Near the back, a torn page is wedged into the book.  The words _I want to believe_ are scrawled across it.  I turn the page over and I gasp in shock.  Julian must have been feverish when he made this drawing…

The lines slant and jitter alarmingly.  In places he pressed hard enough to break through the paper.  But the figure is unmistakable.

Heart hammering in my chest, I pull out the deck and flip through the cards until I find the one I want.

The Hanged Man. 

The Hanged Man’s voice had been speaking to me in this room, it guided me and showed me the vision.  But now the card is silent, offering me no answers or guidance. 

No… it’s waiting for me to find the answer on my own.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, ordering my thoughts.  Yesterday, Julian came down here to find his cure, and answers.  I haven’t found anything that looks like a cure.  I don’t know what answers he found.  But I know that somehow, this book holds the key.

“Are you done?”  Valdemar’s voice calls in.

The call makes me jump, and I hastily shove the book into my hip bag. I fumble with the mask’s strap, and set it firmly over my face.  I’ll have to pursue this mystery later.

With one last backwards glance, I step out of Julian’s old office.

“I’ve seen enough,” I say to Valdemar, who is watching me too intently for comfort.

“Are you very, very sure?  Maybe you are.  It’s almost time for that trial silliness, isn’t it?  You’ll need to testify, won’t you?”

They pull their mask back up over their mouth and nose, and head for the door, gesturing for me to follow.

“I do so look forward to hearing what you have to say,” They say.

Humming, Valdemar leads me out of the dungeon.

It’s a relief to take off the mask and apron. I breathe deeply to clear the smell of dried herbs from my lungs.  As we ascend to the surface, my mind whirls with a hundred thoughts.

Nothing in the dungeon pointed to Julian being guilty of Lucio’s murder.  Did he really decide that hanging for one crime was as good as another, or is there another reason he surrendered?

 

Even though the Countess only made the announcement this morning, the whole town seems to be at the Coliseum as I arrive.  One of the city guard waves me down and escorts me inside.  Three stands have been hastily constructed in the centre of the arena.  All around me is chattering, gossip and jittering.  The crowd is tense and bubbling with anticipation.  For a moment, I’m overwhelmed by the din.  When I look up toward the boxes, the sun blinds me.

“Order, order!” I hear calling over the chattering crowd.  I squint and shade my eyes until my vision clears.  It’s Praetor Vlastomil.

“I said order! “ He shrieks, “All of you, quiet!”

Vlastomil… Oh, Gods, no…

Julian is ushered into the accused’s stand, surrounded by guards.  I feel a pang in my chest when I see him.

Standing in her private box, Nadia clears her throat and speaks, her voice ringing out over the arena.

“People of Vesuvia,” she begins, “Before you stands a man accused of murder:  Doctor Julian Devorak.  In the past, the late Count would have just had him killed, but today marks the inauguration of a new era—One best served by a true justice system.  Sevrina, the magician I appointed as investigator in this case, will present what she has uncovered.  Then, people of Vesuvia, _you_ will determine whether he is guilty or not.”

The crowd roars in excitement.  Everyone seems eager to have their say.

“Praetor Vlastomil will preside over this trial,” Nadia continues, quieting the crowd, “Should the people fail to reach a verdict, he will deliver the sentence.”

“Yes, yes!” Vlastomil says impatiently, “Is it time to sentence him yet?”

He bangs a gavel on the podium in front of him.

“ _Praetor_ ,” Nadia chides.

Vlastomil recovers fumblingly.

“That is, er, I declare this man ready to stand trial! Investigator, make your opening statement!”

I step forward to my place at the questioner’s stand.  My heart is in my throat.  The feelings of hundreds of eyes on me makes my skin crawl, but I can’t back down now. Not with Julian’s life at stake.  Nadia gives me an encouraging look from her box, and I take a deep breath.

“Vesuvia,” I call out, “As the good Countess has said, she has entrusted me to solve the case of Count Lucio’s murder.  My investigation has been extensive, and I am here to present my evidence… I’m here today to prove to you that Doctor Devorak did _not_ murder the Count, and is innocent of all charges.”

I hear gasps and murmurs rippling through the crowd.

“During my investigation,” I say, trying my best to hide my trembling, “I’ve discovered that the facts don’t add up to what was previously understood about the Count’s death.”

Everyone seems to hold their breath.  I can see people leaning forward in anticipation.

“I call Quaestor Valdemar to the stand for questioning.”

Across from me, Julian shoots to attention and his face goes ashen.  He suddenly looks as ill as I feel.

Valdemar descends from the courtiers’ box, and takes their position at the witness’ stand.

“What a fascinating custom,” Valdemar says coolly and they take a seat.  “Very well.  Ask your questions.”

“Where did you and Doctor Devorak work?” I begin.

“Down in the dungeon, studying people with the plague.  Ah, I miss those days.  It would be wonderful if there was another plague.”

“Can you offer the court anything to point to Doctor Devorak’s goodness?”

The crowd around me grumbles restlessly, a few ripples of laughter.

“Yes,” Valdemar says, “As you’ve surmised, Doctor 069 is good.  He’s good at making incisions, applying leeches, providing detailed dissection notes… Bad at dying, however.”

The words stick in my throat, but come more easily when I take a deep breath and slowly exhale.

“What were his views on, or reactions to death?” I ask.

Valdemar tilts their head unnaturally.

“He was always terribly squeamish about it,” they say.  “He never acclimated to seeing someone die on the table.  I suppose he didn’t appreciate it like I did.  Then again, who knows what he was thinking.  The night of the murder? Sick and locked in his office?  Perhaps he cracked.”

“And on the night the Count died,” I continue, “You say that Doctor Devorak was locked in the office?”

“Oh yes,” Valdemar says with a nod of their head, “I locked him in his office myself under the Count’s orders.  Now, if you will excuse me. I need to prepare the dissection chamber—there won’t be much time after the hanging.”

Without the slightest hesitation, they rise from the seat and start to exit the witness’ stand.

“Quaestor Valdemar?” I say, stunned at the sudden disregard for the hearing..

“Quaestor Valdemar!” Nadia calls out, “We’re not finished!  Quaestor!”

But with a swish of their white coat, they’re gone.  The crowd is roaring.

“Quiet!  All of you, quiet!” Vlastomil calls out, banging his gavel.

“Praetor!” Julian shouts.

The hubbub dies down as quickly as it started.  With that single word, Julian commands centre stage.  He throws his arms out with a flourish, nearly smacking an unwary guard.

“I want to make a statement.” Julian asserts.

“Oh my,” Vlastomil says, “What a terribly rude and unconventional request!”

“It’s common practice in legal systems,” Julian challenges.  “I know my rights.”

That’s right. He’s travelled a lot.  He probably understands the concept of a trial better than I do.  All the same, my stomach twists.  I have a bad feeling about this.

“Fine then, I’ll allow it,” Vlastomil says with a wave of his hand.  “Get on with it, then!”

“I killed the Count,” Julian declares.  “I’m guilty.  That’s all there is to it.  So tell me, Magician. Why do you insist I’m innocent?”

Is he serious?

He’s serious.  It looks like my opposition today will be Julian himself.

“As Quaestor Valdemar testified, you were locked in your office on the night of the murder,” I assert, “If you were trapped there, how could you have killed the Count?”

“Ah, but I wasn’t trapped,” he argues, “Consul Valerius saw me fleeing the scene of the crime, didn’t he? Truth is, I could have escaped at any time.  I’m a slippery sort.  It wasn’t hard to pick the lock on my own office door.  There’s a dozen exits from the tunnels around the dungeons—and even more secret passages in the palace.  All I had to do was sneak up to his wing, and set him on fire.”

It would sound convincing if I didn’t know the truth.  There must be a contradiction somewhere.

“How did you set the fire?”  I ask.

“On that fateful night,” Julian begins, ever the storyteller, “I went to the Count’s room to confront him for his refusal to improve the state of the city.  We argued.  It got… heated.  I’d taken a torch from the dungeon to light my way out.  I almost forgot I was holding it until he said he’d see my hometown burn.  That was the last straw.  So I threw the torch at him, and I watched _him_ burn.”

“Stop!” Nadia calls out from her box.

Vlastomil shudders.  “Countess?”

Even at this distance, Nadia’s voice is clear, commanding, and impossible to ignore.

“That was no ordinary fire,” she says, “Only the Count’s body burned.  And though it burned completely, the bedding wasn’t even singed, and there was no evidence of a torch at the scene.  The servants who clean that wing would corroborate this testimony.”

The crowd erupts into chatter and questions.

Nadia wants to find the truth, too.  She has given me this opportunity to make a case for Julian’s innocence.  I have to take it.

“So, given that evidence, the fire must have been magical in origin.”

I grip the podium in front of me, bolstering myself. 

“Can you cast magic, Doctor?  Prove it!”

“I—” Julian is speechless for a moment and then recovers.  “I pled guilty then, I’m pleading guilty now!  What more is there to it?”

I can’t argue if he doesn’t give me leverage.  Maybe a different line of questioning will help.

“Why turn yourself in now?” I plead, “After all this time?”

Julian’s eye flashes in surprise.

“I…  Well, you see, that’s a funny story, investigator,” he says soberly.  “Truth is… I met someone special.”

 The crowd collectively gasps.  They lean forward, enraptured, straining to catch every word.  But Julian doesn’t pay them a moment’s attention.  He gazes earnestly at me.

“Someone I care more deeply for than my own self… Someone I would do anything to protect….If I could, I’d tell her I love her more than she could possibly understand.  I’m doing this because I want her to be safe.”

I’m struggling not to let my emotions show through.

“Even if it means dying?” I ask.

The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them.

He meets my gaze sadly and says lowly, “Some things are worth dying for.”

I can’t seem to get any words out around the lump in my throat.  A piercing voice shatters the moment.

“Now then!” Vlastomil shouts, banging his gavel.  “I think the evidence provided is clear… Yes, very clear.  It is time for us to pass judgement upon this man!”

The crowd murmurs restlessly.  I can see people jostling each other and whispering.  I can hardly hear anything over the sound of my heart hammering within me.

“Now, if you believe him guilty, cheer!”  Vlastomil orders.  A wave of cheers crashes over the arena.  My knees are feeling weak.  I look up to Julian, who has averted his gaze.  It seems he can’t bear to look at me.

“Now, if you believe him innocent, cheer!”

I can’t tell which one is louder.  It sounds pretty evenly split.

A ripple of discontent goes through the crowd.  People begin to argue and point fingers.

Vlastomil bangs his gavel and smiles.

“Oh dear,” he says with affected strain.  “Oh my.  It seems the will of the people is equally divided.  Whatever shall we do?  I suppose I must decide.  Yes, it simply must be me.”

The townspeople hardly seem to hear him.  The unrest is escalating into shouting.

“Order!” Vastomil shouts, banging his gavel, “Order, I say, you ill-mannered ruffians!”

“Enough!” Nadia calls out powerfully, her presence silencing the crowd.  “We shall take a recess while Praetor Vlastomil considers his verdict.”

“Excellent idea, Countess!” Vlastomil says, and bangs his gavel.  “Court is now in recess.  Don’t forget to come back in twenty minutes for the verdict!”

I catch a glimpse of Julian, still in chains, being led to the dungeons underneath the Coliseum.  Nadia descends from her private box and walks directly to me.

“A moment of your time,” she says, approaching me.  I look to her desperately.

“I must confess,” she says softly. “This was not how I expected the trial to go.  It must be very taxing for you, Sevrina.”

“What can I do?” I plead.  “There must be _something_!”

“I fear I have no simple solution for you,” Nadia exhales.  “I must obey the rules of the justice system I’ve put forward.  I cannot risk undermining it now.”

Her words and bearing are carefully controlled, but I can sense her discontent.  She studies me for a long, measured moment, her eyes betraying her upset.

“If you’d like to speak to the Doctor again, the guards will let you in,” she says softly.  “I’ve instructed them to give you access.”

I embrace her quickly, which startles her initially. 

“Thank you, Nadia.”  And I burst into a run across the arena.

At the entrance to the dungeons, a few dozen townspeople are milling around.  They cajole, plead and push, trying to get past the guards.  One of the guards, fed up, shouts for everyone to stand back.  In the group, I spy Mazelinka.

“Sevrina!” she shoulders through the group to get to me.  “I’m glad I spotted you.  How are you holding up?”

I struggle to find the words to describe this last day, but she can read the anguish in my face all the same.

“I was afraid of that,” she mutters.  “Sevrina, these guards are keeping us all out.  Can you get me in? I want to talk some sense into that boy.”

I nod.  “I don’t know if they will let you in with me, but I’ll try.  Come on.”

Mazelinka follows me as we fight our way through the crowd.  When we reach the guards, they start to stand aside for me, but hesitate when they spot Mazelinka at my side.  I gather all of the courage I can, and draw myself up.

“She’s with me,” I say firmly.

The guards exchange confused looks, but after a long, tense moment, they move aside and motion us down the stairs.

Another guard is standing just outside the cell door.  He salutes me crisply and unlocks the door, but instead of staying outside, he steps inside with us, eyeing Julian suspiciously.  Painfully aware of the guard standing just a few feet away, I clear my throat.  I can’t ask about the book now.  I can’t even let it slip that I know him.

“Mazelinka?” Julian says, aghast.

“Ilya, you rascal!” she shouts, the upset she is feeling finally showing through unabashedly.  “What are you thinking, turning yourself in and calling yourself guilty?  What would Lilinka think?”

“I—it’s not like that,” he says pleadingly.

“No?” Mazelinka says in a scolding tone, “Then what about your special someone?  You told me all about how you wanted to travel the world with her, see the sights, meet people, have grand adventures the bards can sing about.  What happened to all that?”

“I never wanted to hurt her,” he says measuredly, cautious of the guard.  “Or get her hopes up for nothing.”

“There’s always hope,” Mazelinka says, reaching out to shake his arm.

“I want to believe that,” he whispers, “But I want her safe, more than anything.  Even if she hates me for it.”

“Does she mean that much to you?” I ask.

Julian looks at me seriously.  “That much and more.”

“I’m sure she cares for you, too,” I say softly.

“See, Ilya?” Mazelinka says desperately.  “You’ve got people in your corner, fighting for you.  So don’t give up on yourself so easily.”

“Oh, Mazelinka,” he heaves, looking woe begotten.

Mazelinka’s expression softens, and she sighs.  She can’t seem to stay angry when his expression is the picture of despair.

“I’ve said my piece,” she says, patting him softly on the shoulder.  “So that’s enough of that…. How are you feeling?  Are they feeding you enough?”

Julian tries to smile.

“I’m alright, Mazelinka,” he says, “Thank you.”

They embrace quickly, and Mazelinka pulls back.

“Thank you for letting me see him, investigator,” she says, her eyes welling up.  “I’ll leave you to speak to him now.  I’ve taken enough of your time.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, madam,” I say solemnly, trying to be cautious.

“Take care of yourself, Ilya,” she calls back from the door.  “Remember that special someone is waiting for you.”

Mazelinka gives us a meaningful look, then marches out and climbs up the stairs, back out into the sun.

Julian sits on a chair and averts his gaze from me.  I can see now how much emotional pain he is in, although nothing has made any of this make any more sense.

“Doctor Devorak,” I say, with as much calm as I can hold onto.

His gaze lingers on the floor, his face flushed in shame.  The silence stretches for a few seconds before he cracks.

“Friendly crowd,” He exhales.  “You were magnificent, by the way.  If I weren’t guilty, I’d think I was innocent, too.”

“But you _are_ innocent!” I shout.  “Why are you doing this?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He says coolly.  “This is something I _have_ to do.”

“And why do you believe you have to do this?” I ask, biting through my frustration.

Julian stays silent, only casts a meaningful look past my shoulder at the guard before returning his gaze to me, looking forlorn.

“Fine, then, Doctor.  What will this accomplish?”

Still, he meets me with silence.  As the quiet stretches out, my attention on him grows more intense as my anxiety twists in my stomach, silently willing him to speak, to say anything at all.  To save himself.  Julian casts his eyes to the floor as if he’s ashamed.  I’ve had enough.

“Doctor Devorak, you _do_ know that I want to help you?” I ask pleadingly.

“Yes, I know,” he says softly, with a slight nod.

“Then why won’t you speak to me?”

“I want to,” he whispers.  “I truly do.  But I…”

He trails off, giving me a desperate look.  Then, with a clatter of chains, he rushes up to me and catches my shoulders, bending close.  His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper.

“Trust me, Sevrina, I have a plan.”

“Get away from her!” the guard bellows, hauling me back and putting himself between Julian and I.  Julian backs away, both hands raised in surrender.

“No harm done,” he says, “See?”

Overhead, a gong sounds.  Still bristling, the guard turns to me.

“It’s time for the verdict.  Please go back upstairs.”

My eyes go to Julian.

“Trust me,” he mouths, putting his hand over his heart as he guard ushers me out of the cell.

 

When I take the questioner’s stand again, I’m shaking… The townspeople are returning to their seats.  Despite the recess, they still seem restless.  I can see more than a few scowling faces.  The guards march Julian out of the dungeon and to the accused’s stand to face his sentence.  Vlastomil appears at his pulpit and bangs his gavel.

“Now that you are all feeling calmer, I can get on with the verdict,” he calls out, having to practically screech over the crowd.  The rumble of the people slowly settles to quiet and Vlastomil’s mouth curls into an unsettling smile.

“And after a very lengthy and careful consideration,” the Praetor calls out with a sadistic air, “I pronounce the accused, Julian Devorak, guilty of the murder of our beloved Count Lucio!”

My legs feel like water.  I’m struggling to hold myself up at the stand.  The crowd begins to cheer and boo, and then to shout and argue.  Vlastomil has to shriek to be heard.

“And I sentence him to death by hanging at the start of the Masquerade!”

Someone throws a bottle at Vlastomil’s box.  In the blink of an eye, the entire crowd is in an uproar.  The guards converge around Julian as aggrieved townspeople swarm the arena.  I watch helplessly as he is led away in chains.

My heart hammering, I find the strength in my legs and rush for the exit before I get caught up in the chaos.

I can’t let this stand… I won’t.  I must do something.  I know I can count on Portia, but we’ll need all the help we can get.  Far above me, a raven screams.  I look up, and inadvertently spot a flash of colour at the top of the Coliseum stand.  When I reach out with my magic, I feel Asra’s familiar presence respond. 

The book I took from Julian’s office sits heavily in my hip bag.  I have questions, and maybe Asra will have answers.  It’s time I spoke to him.


	13. The Hanged Man

I run down side streets and short cuts, my feet flying over the cobblestones.  After that disastrous trial, I’ll need to move quickly to save Julian from execution…

He said he had a plan… But what?  Why do this at all?  If he loves me, why didn’t he talk to me before doing such a drastic thing?

My head is spinning… I can only hope that Asra will have some insight…

Soon, I see the door to the shop and I burst through like a shot.  Asra is there.

“Asra!” I cry, flying into his arms.  He hugs me tightly, but redirects my attention.

“Sevrina, you have some visitors,” he says.

I see Portia and Mazelinka in the back room, sitting.  Portia in particular looks frantic, and she has been crying.  There’s a squawking ruckus behind me and a black blur zooms over my shoulder and into the shop.  It’s the same skinny raven I’ve seen around Julian before… he careens into a jar and knocks it off the shelf.  Dried sparkweed scatters on the ground.

“Malak, you windbag!” Mazelinka shouts, “Behave!”

With an indignant croak, he lands on my shoulder, feathers thoroughly ruffled.

“We tried to find you after the trial, but the crowd was too thick,” Portia explains.

“Pasha thought we might find you here,” Mazelinka adds.  The nickname catches me by surprise.  Now that I’m looking for it, there’s an easy familiarity between them—a story for another day, maybe.

“Tea is ready,” Asra says calmingly, bringing a pot and cups into the back room.  “Take a seat, Sevrina.  You look like you need it.”

He’s right… my legs are shaking with exhaustion… when was the last time I slept?

I fall into a chair as Asra serves the tea. I accept a cup with trembling hands and take a shaking breath, trying to summon the words to formulate a plan to get Julian to safety.

“I’m sure you’ll all want time to talk,” Asra murmurs softly. “I’ll just be upstairs, then…”

“Don’t go, Asra, please…” I plead, clinging to his sleeve while sobs suddenly rack my body, “I need your help, Brother…. Please, Asra.  I know you hate him but please help me, Asra.  Please.  _Please_.”

Asra stops suddenly.  “Of course, Sevrina,” he says, holding my arms.  “Of course I’ll help you.”

Faust wriggles out of his sleeve and onto the table and slithers up to press her head into my hand.  She seems as worried about me as he does.

“Alright,” Portia says, taking charge as she wipes her pink cheeks.  “We need to figure out how to save Ilya… Sevrina, did he say anything when you talked to him?”

“He said he had a plan.”

“Want kind of hare-brained plan involves being found guilty of murder?”  Portia sighs with an eye roll.  “God, he is such a fucking idiot…”

“I don’t know,” I say, “But I’ll find out if it kills me…. Before the trial, I found something else… Asra, do you recognise this?”

I tug the book I took from Julian’s office out of my bag, and I set it on the table.  His eyes go wide in astonishment.

“Sevrina, where did you find this?”

“In Julian’s old office… in the dungeons.”

Asra gently runs his fingers over the cover, and starts flipping through the book. As he reaches the back pages, where Julian’s scribbles are most prominent, his expression sours.  He closes the book, and takes a deep, calming breath.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Asra sighs, “I hope I’m wrong, but think I can guess what his plan is… But I want to be sure…. Sevrina, we need to go and talk to him.  I’ve got a few things to tell him, and I’m sure you do, too.”

I nod and wipe my eyes.  “Portia, do you know where he’s being held?”

“He’s being held at the palace,” she answers.  “Milady wanted to ask him some questions over dinner… While you two try to figure out what Ilya’s up to, I’m going to keep working on a backup plan to get him the hell out of here…”

“I’ll go with you, Pasha,” Mazelinka says in solidarity.  “Maybe some of my old pirate tricks will come in handy.”

Malak caws in my ear, then hops off my shoulder to go to Mazelinka’s.  As Asra shrugs on his coat, Faust slithers up around his shoulders and peers over his collar.

“Alright,” Asra says, “Let’s hire a carriage and get to the palace.”

 

When we reach the palace, the chamberlain leads us to the dining room.  The table is set for dinner, but the lavish spread is untouched.  Nadia seems to be absorbed in questioning Julian, and he is avoiding her gaze, eyes on his plate.

“Good evening Nadia, Julian,” Asra says as we enter.  At the sound of Asra’s voice, all remaining colour drains from Julian’s face.

“I have to leave now,” he says, “Immediately.  Do excuse me, Countess…”

He scrambles to his feet and tries to dash for the door only to jolt to a halt as the table rattles alarmingly.  One of his wrists is chained to the table leg.

Oh yes… Asra and Julian haven’t actually spoken in three years, and there is some old fight that was never resolved…

“Do sit down, Doctor,” Nadia says coolly, “Our conversation is far from over.  And I’d hate to have to fasten you to that chair.”

Julian wilts under her steely gaze, and slowly, reluctantly, sinks into his chair, pink-cheeked and fixing his eye on his plate again.  Nadia turns to us.

“Sevrina, Asra.” She says in greeting, “How good to see you both again.  Please, join us for dinner.”

We pull out two chairs, Asra sitting next to Nadia and directly across from Julian, and I next to Asra.  As if on cue, servants bring us plates of richly spiced food, steaming hot, and then retreat to the kitchen.

“I know the trial didn’t go… quite as planned,” Nadia says delicately, letting her eyes fall on my stricken face, “So I was just asking the Doctor a few of my remaining questions.  Perhaps you’d like to ask him something more, as well?”

I have so many questions, I barely know where to start.  I am trying to remain poised around Nadia, but one question flies from me faster than I can help.

“Why did you lie during the trial?” 

Oh…well, perhaps bluntness will yield results. 

Julian stares determinedly at his plate, rather than look at me.

“This steak is cooked to perfection, Countess, if I do say so myself.” He deflects.

Nadia stares him down intensely. “I’m sure the kitchen staff would be happy to hear that.  I, on the other hand, would prefer to hear your answer to Sevrina’s question.”

“Yes,” says Asra, baiting him, “I thought you’d be eager to explain to us how you murdered the Count.  It’s not like you to miss a chance to tell tall tales.”

Nadia half smiles at Asra’s comment, but her gaze is focused mercilessly on Julian.

“I would very much like to hear that story again,” she says.  “Perhaps this time with fewer plot holes…you threw a torch, did you say, Doctor?  Was a convenient magical flame not available?”

Julian swallows hard and gestures weakly to his glass.

“Is this… Golden Goose?” he stammers.

Nadia levels him with a disapproving frown.  I can tell he’s starting to sweat.

“We all know you didn’t kill the Count,” I say, trying hard to keep the last of my poise from fraying in front of Nadia. “Tell us the truth.”

Under the weight of our combined scrutiny, Julian folds like a bad hand of cards.

“Alright,” he concedes.  “I’ll talk.”

Nadia waves a hand, and all servants attending the room slip out.

“I’ll talk,” Julian sighs again, “But honestly, you probably won’t believe me.  I don’t even believe me.  It’s a bunch of mystic nonsense.”

“Mystic nonsense?”  Asra says with a sardonic laugh, “Is that anything like what Sevrina and I do?”

“Now, I didn’t mean it like that,” Julian says, still unable to meet my gaze directly.  “Or… I did, in a way, but… Fine.  You want to know the truth?  What really happened?  That night, I was locked in my office, looking for a cure for the plague, which I was dying of.  I managed to escape and sneak up to the Count’s room, but when I arrived, it was already on fire.”

“Why then, did you plead guilty?” Nadia asks, her eyes still steely on him.

“Because the plague is coming back,” Julian says.

The words fall from his mouth like stones in the silence.

“It’s only a matter of time before the first person falls ill,” Julian explains.  “We need a cure, and three years ago, I found one.”

He goes quiet again, but none of us speak, because we know he isn’t finished.

“On the night of the fire, I was dying,” he says softly.  “I kept having visions.  I kept seeing a raven-headed man.  I know it sounds like a fever dream, but it wasn’t.  It was real.  He was real… he helped me find the cure, but my memory ends there.  I can’t remember what it was.”

He pauses again, and then finally manages to look at me.

“If I see him again, I’ll get those memories back.  I’m sure of it,” he says, hardly above a whisper.

He wants to be dying to see the raven-headed man again.  He wants to be dying to retrieve the memory of the cure for the plague.

Without saying anything, I pull the cards from my hip bag.  I don’t even have to look at them—the Hanged Man seems to leap right into my hand.

“Is this the figure you saw?” I ask, handing the card to Julian.

He looks at it with his eye wide, aghast.

“Wh…What?  Who is that?” he looks at me intensely.  “How did you just have that ready?”

Asra nods.  “I thought so… Julian, in that vision, you met the Hanged Man.”

Asra sets the book on the table with a thump.

“What’s this?” Nadia asks, reaching over to thumb through a few pages.

“A book of rituals,” Asra replies, “Which Julian took from me three years ago, without my knowledge, and made…. Additions to.”

“I was trying to make sense of it,” Julian says with all the defensiveness of an embarrassed child, “Clarify it.  Improve it, even.”

“By getting ink stains all over it and dog-earing the pages?”  Asra asks, “Or are you referring to your lovingly rendered artwork?”

“I was somewhat delirious when I drew that,” Julian mutters, “But the important thing is, from what I was able to translate, that book described ways to travel to other realms.”

Asra shakes his head.  “Magicians, like Sevrina and I, can learn to visit these realms through a personal gateway. It’s much harder for non-magicans….To even have a chance, they’d have to approach the boundary between realms.  Like between dreams and waking….”

“Or life and death,” Julian breaks in.  “Before you ask, I tried the dreamwalking, and it didn’t help—nightmares all the way down, and no lucidity whatsoever.”

Nadia finally speaks again.

“But even if your plan works, Doctor, your cure will be lost to us.  Your plan will kill you.”

Julian halfway nods.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.”

Nadia looks at him like she can’t believe what an idiot he is. Julian must sense this, and decides to clarify.

“Could I borrow your dinner knife, Countess?”  Julian asks.  “No funny business, I promise.”

Nadia arches a brow, and offers him a knife, handle first.  Julian splays open his hand and slices open his palm with a grimace.  Nadia recoils as crimson blooms in the wound, and Julian tilts his head back, exposing the magic mark glowing in his throat.  Before our eyes, the wound begins to close.  Within seconds, only smooth skin remains.

“My word,” Nadia breathes.

“There—you see it?”  Julian asks, “I’ve healed from much, much worse than this.  Although you would know, wouldn’t you, Asra?  After all, this is your handiwork.”

Asra’s brow furrows and he shakes his head.  “I didn’t give you that mark.”

Julian looks astonished.  “What?  But… The mark was on your book.  If you didn’t, who did?”

“I wish I knew,” Asra whispers in surprise.

“Doctor, can this mark truly save you from hanging?”  Nadia asks earnestly.

Julian shrugs.  “If there’s a limit to what I can heal, I haven’t found it yet.”

“Once is all it takes,” I say softly, my eyes stinging with the threat of new tears.

If he’s right, he’ll return with a cure for the plague.  If he’s wrong…

“It’s too dangerous,” I whisper.

Julian looks at me with pleading in his eye.

“Sevrina, it’s dangerous for _me_ ,” Julian says earnestly.  “But the plague returning?  That’s dangerous for _everyone_.  All that suffering… I’d do anything to keep it from happening again.”

Nadia nods her head soberly. 

“If the plague is truly returning,” she says, “I can understand why you’d be willing to take such a risk…  Especially to keep your _special someone_ safe.”

She turns her eyes to look directly at me.  A cold shiver of dread washes over me, freezing me in place.  I feel as if I am about to be sick.  Julian is silent, with a startled look on his face.

She knows.

“Truthfully, I’d only guessed,” Nadia says calmly, the corner of her mouth turning up, “But your reaction here is all the confirmation I need, Sevrina.”

“Nadia,” I say, trying to find words, “I…”

Before I can continue, she holds up her graceful hennaed hand to stop me.

“No need, Sevrina.  I understand why you didn’t tell me,” she says. “Though I admit, from the morning after his arrest, I don’t know how you thought you were hiding it.  You were hardly subtle.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and collapse over the table in tears.  My sobbing becomes erratic, rapid hyperventilation within seconds, and Nadia stands and sweeps over beside my seat, crouching down beside me, patting me on the back soothingly.  She pulls me into an embrace and tries to help settle me.

“Hush, my dear friend,” she whispers to me as I sob and wheeze into her shoulders, “I’m not angry, Sevrina.  I can’t imagine the anguish you’ve endured these last few days… I swear I will do anything I’m able to do to help you.”

She holds me that way for a moment, and though I continue to heave and sob, she pulls back, and puts her hands on either side of my face.

“Sevrina, you are braver than you know,” she says with a warm smile.  “I promise I will do all I can to help.”

I nod weakly, and Nadia kisses me on the forehead.  She gives me a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” I choke out, still unable to steady my rapid breathing, and wipe my eyes as she returns to her seat.

“Sevrina,” Julian whispers.  His expression is one of silent desperation as he watches me struggle for breath.  

I let my head fall into my arms on the table and continue to sob and wheeze.  Asra puts a comforting hand on my back and runs it back and forth over my shoulders.

“Start with your breath, Sister,” he says reassuringly, “Think only about your breath.  Savour your breath.  Lead with your heart and be present…”

I follow his guidance and steady myself as he repeats the mantra, and regain control of my breath.  After I am calm enough to breathe normally, he pulls his hand from behind my back as I sit up and wipe my cheeks with the handkerchief.  

“Is that a bit better?” Asra asks, pouring me a glass of water and sliding it to me.

I take the water from him and nod feebly before sipping it.  Julian is looking down at his plate in shame.  He blinks and I see a tear break over his cheek.

“Good,” Asra says softly.  “Now… I have an idea…  Why don’t we try an alternate plan first?”  His voice is heavy with worry.  He sounds reluctant to even voice the thought. “It’ll be dangerous, but… Ilya, I can use myself as an anchor, and send you directly to the Hanged Man’s realm.”

Julian snaps to attention.  “You can do that?”

“Yes,” Asra says hesitantly, “Though it would work better if… if Sevrina were to go with you.”

“What? No!” Julian dismisses this idea with a slam of his fist on the table.

“It can hardly be riskier than your current plan, Doctor,” Nadia says with disbelief.

“Well, yes, that’s true,” Julian admits, looking at Nadia directly, “But I know how this mark works.  I don’t know the first thing about this realm-hopping…  I don’t trust it enough to endanger her.”

“If you don’t trust me, do you trust Sevrina?”  Asra asks.

Julian’s eye darts between us.  I can tell he’s not enthusiastic.

“We should at least try,” I say, looking to Julian pleadingly.  “Please, Julian.”

“I shall provide any assistance you need,” Nadia adds.

Julian looks back to me.

“Please,” I ask again, pressing my hands to my heart. “I’m begging you, Julian.”

Julian sighs a shaking breath and reluctantly nods.

Asra stands up.  “Why don’t we start getting things ready?  The fountain in the garden should be perfect, if you’d allow us to use it, Nadia?”

“Of course,” Nadia says with a nod. “Sevrina, I’m sure you’d like some time to speak with the Doctor.  Please meet us outside when you’re ready, and don’t feel a need to rush… I’m sure there is much for the two of you to say.”

Nadia rises, and moves to unlock the chain holding Julian captive.  When I rise from my seat, she turns to take me into her arms again, patting my head. 

“If there is anything I am able to do, you shall have it,” she whispers, and then pulls back from me.  She looks to Asra and motions for him to walk with her as she pushes open the doors to the dining room, and glides through.  Asra glances back at us, and then follows her out into the hall.

Julian and I are alone.  He looks at me pleadingly, and feebly reaches a hand out in a gesture to query my hurt.  I don’t take his hand, and instead gesture for him to follow me out of the dining room.

Our footsteps echo down the empty hallways.  Every few steps, he glances furtively at my face, only to hastily look away whenever I turn to meet his eye.  This is the first time we’ve been alone together since before the trial.  But the air between us is tense.  We don’t touch.

I stay silent for a moment, trying to order everything I want to say to him in the clutter of my thoughts.  I’m very angry and deeply hurt, but I am so intensely afraid for his safety that I can hardly focus.

“You should have come to me,” I manage to say, my tone short and severe. “I would have helped you.”

“Sevrina, I—”

“Shut up, Julian.  I’m far from finished.”

We continue down the hall.  He keeps pace with me, silent and casting searching glances at me when he can stand to look up from the floor.

“When did you think up this plan?” I ask a moment later.

Julian sighs.  “When I… When I went down to my old office.”

“Before you turned yourself in.”

“Well… yes.”

“And you couldn’t have spoken to me first?”

Before I can say any more, he stops walking and pivots to face me.  He takes a deep breath.

“I thought it was the only way,” he says softly, with a look of despair on his face.

I stare him down a long moment, my stomach twisting in upset, clutching my heart, my eyes stinging with tears.

“Do you know that I love you?” I entreat.

“Now more than ever,” he mutters lowly, still struggling to meet my gaze.

“Do you love me?” I ask, barely able to squeeze the words out.

“Of course I do, Sevrina,” he heaves, looking wounded.  “You know that I do, don’t you?”

“What should make me know it?” I ask, now unable to disguise my hurt and anger as I round on him and back him into the wall.  “You promised me a future and then you turn around and shut me right out of it.  You ignited a hope in me that I might actually know peace and happiness and then you rent it to ribbons without even an explanation, Julian!  Is that what’s supposed to assure me I’m loved?”

The tears break over my cheeks and he raises his hands to comfort me.  I swat them away furiously.

“Don’t touch me until you understand how hurt I am!” I shout, and then whisper, “Don’t touch me until you apologize.”

He looks stunned.  His eye wells up.

“Sevrina, I’m sorry,” he whispers, his throat catching, “I was so convinced I had to do this alone… I told you I was in a shipwreck once… I was ten years old.  Pasha was nearly two, and couldn’t swim, and she was swept overboard.  I dove in after her.  I was a good swimmer for my age but the water was so choppy…. I lost sight of our parents and just kept kicking with Pasha in my arms, trying desperately to keep her head above water while simultaneously shielding her from debris… I don’t know how I managed to make it, let alone how I managed to keep her alive.  I did the only thing I could and kept kicking.  Maybe that’s why I dive into danger if it means it could help someone I love… Maybe that’s why I’m so ready to go to the gallows if it means I have a shot in the dark at saving you from the plague—sacrificing myself has kept my loved ones alive, in my experience.  Why fuck with the formula?”

 “Because you’re not alone, Julian.”

“I know, my Dearest… But, if I’m wrong… If the worst happens… I couldn’t bear for you to feel responsible for it.  But you… You still came to help.”

“That’s what love does,” I whisper.

His smile comes easy.  “Yes…  How about that.”

We look at each other sheepishly, like a couple of children that has decided to reconcile after a fight, but don’t know how to apologize.  I can’t hold this distance between us any longer.  I embrace him fiercely around the middle, pressing my cheek to his chest and trembling.  His arms, ever sure and strong, wrap comfortingly around me.

“I’m so sorry, Sevrina,” he whispers desperately, passing his hand over my hair.  “Please, please forgive me, I’m begging you.”

“I forgive you, Julian,” I murmur through my tears. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” he continues, “I did this to protect you.  I’m sorry… I never meant to hurt you, Darling…”

I tighten my hold on him.  “I know… I forgive you….”

“Please,” he implores, his voice breaking, “Please say you know that I love you…. Do you know that I love you?”

“Yes, I know Julian… Please, don’t ever leave me in the shadows again…. Never, never again…”

We spend what must be several minutes this way, clasped together, terrified and trembling, whispering reassurances of love to the other.  He holds me tight to him, a hand in my hair, kissing the crown of my head over and over again until the tremors in my limbs begin to subside, and then slowly pulls back, taking hold of my hands.

“This alternate plan of Asra’s,” he whispers.  “Have you done this before, entered another realm?”

“Well… no,” I admit.  “Asra’s talked about other realms and personal gateways before, but never in much detail.  I’ve only ever heard the voices of the Arcana.  I’ve never seen them directly.”

“Who’s to say it will even work?” Julian asks, “And if it does, how…real…is this other realm?  How much can it affect us?  What happens if you… what happens if one of us gets hurt in it?  Or worse?  What then?  Didn’t Asra say it was dangerous?”

“Julian,” I whisper. “Your hands are shaking.”

He withdraws his hands from mine.  “What?  My hands are sure as the sunrise, Sevrina.  When does anything bother me?”

He says that, but his eye tells another story.  I’m not fooled.  This plan makes him more nervous than he wants to admit.

The hallway is still empty, but maybe we can go somewhere more private to talk.  Luckily, we’re only a few doors down from my guest room.

“Come with me,” I say softly.

Still muttering about possible worst-case scenarios, he follows me into the guest room, and I shut the door behind us.  He pauses mid-sentence to look around, blinking in surprise.

“This is…. This is your room, isn’t it?” he asks softly, “I’m not intruding, am I?  Should I go?”

“Yes, no and no,” I say with a chuckle.  “Come here.”

I sit on the bed, patting the mattress next to me.  Julian awkwardly folds his long legs under him as he sits.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, visibly distressed. “I feel I need to say…. Oh, Gods, what you must have thought when you saw that dungeon….”

I quiet him. “I know it was horrific, but I know you didn’t take part in the torture… There were a lot of desperate doctors there seeking a cure, and many let matters of ethics slip through their fingers.  You cared about consequences.  You even tried to help the others cope.”

He looks at me quizzically.  “How do you know?”

“Valdemar told me.”

The colour drains from his face.  “What?”

His hands fly to mine with concern.

“Quaestor Valdemar took me down to the dungeons,” I clarify.  “It was shocking, I can’t deny that… I asked what you did there, and they told me you worked apart from the other doctors… That you didn’t take part in the vivisections and you were concerned about the consequences of the cruelty of the research.  They said you didn’t believe the ends justified the means, that you sought after the comfort of the patients and tried to improve morale amongst the doctors.  You even went so far as so expose it to the Count, only to find out he knew exactly what was happening down there.”

“But I still researched there,” Julian says with a note of self-loathing.  “I didn’t stop it.  I was complicit.  Isn’t that enough to damn me?”

“Did you have an option?” I ask. 

“Not if I wanted to find the cure,” he whispers.

“You _were_ reaching for the greater good,” I assure him.  “Your motivation was healing, helping, finding an end to the suffering.  Of course you’d have to study bodies… blood… brains…. I can’t say no one died in your arms, but you didn’t torture.  You didn’t kill.”

Julian’s ghost-white cheeks burn pink again as he tries to stifle his emotions from breaking through.

“You’re sure?” He whispers.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Julian.”

He lets away a shaking sigh and squeezes my fingers.

“Oh, Gods,” he mutters.  He looks at me, astonished.  “I thought my wickedness was all you’d be able to see… Instead you brought forth the goodness from beneath the horror of it all… That’s why you defended me so fiercely… You… you truly love me, don’t you?”

I reach up to caress his cheek.

“Yes, Julian.  I love you more than I can explain.”

His eye glistens with tears. 

“But why?” He breathes, “Why do you waste your light loving me when I have done nothing to deserve it?”

“Shh,” I hush him.  “How could I not love you?  When I look at you I see a man who cares for the people around him.  I see a man that loves to see those around him happily laughing, because he delights so intensely in their joy.  I see a man who flies to the defence of the helpless.  I see a man who makes me laugh until my ribs ache, a man who is tender and romantic and passionate and fearless.  I see a man who took on a serious wound from me without even knowing how his body would handle it.  I see a man that will give everything he is, who is fiercely loyal, a man that is willing to throw himself into hazardous situations to save those he cares about from suffering, even if the consequences…” I choke on the final words.  “Even if the consequences could prove fatal to him.”

I guide his hand to rest on my chest, over my heart, and interlace our fingers.

“Gods, I thought this was going to stop beating today,” I whisper tremulously, closing my eyes.  “I thought it would kill me, it hurt so much… Oh, Gods, Julian… I can’t bear to think of you on the gallows…”

“Sevrina,” he says comfortingly.  “I—“

“Shh,” I hush him softly.  “I need a quiet moment with you to replenish my spirit.  Just breathe with me… No worst case scenarios, no negativity… put that aside for a moment and breathe with me, and think about a bright and loving future, free of all this danger.”

He looks at me seriously and nods, mirroring my actions and taking hold of my free hand and placing it over his heart.

“If we don’t believe it’s possible to have that future,” I whisper, gazing into his wide eye, “I know this will all be futile.  All will be despair and death.  We need to believe.  We need to focus on it for a moment.  Breathe with me.”

“Lead the way,” he says softly.

I take a deep, slow breath, hold it for a few seconds, then exhale.  He stares at our overlapping hands, transfixed, as my chest rises and falls with each breath.  Both his heartrate and breathing have synchronized with mine.  Bit by bit, the tension eases from his shoulders.  Finally, he shudders with emotion and slumps against me, burying his face against the side of my neck.

“I’m here, Julian,” I whisper.  “Nothing bad has happened.”

“Yet,” he answers.

“Julian, I won’t force you to do this,” I say, my chin threatening to quiver.

“No, we should.  I know we should, I’m just being silly…”

“Being worried isn’t silly.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he says earnestly, “It isn’t that I think you can’t take care of yourself—I don’t feel that way at all—But if you come with me into this other realm, and something happens…”

“Then we’ll face it together,” I assert, cupping his cheek and kissing his hair.  “Hush, my Love… Come and lay here with me.”

We recline on the bed.  He rolls onto his back and draws me over his chest.  My face settles in the crook of his shoulder, and he puts his arm protectively around me.  I reach my hand up to twirl my fingers in his untidy auburn curls.

“I love you, Sevrina,” He whispers seriously.  “More than my own life.”

“And I love you more than mine,” I reply.

We hold one another in peaceful silence.  I feel his breath shifting my hair over the crown of my head, and he moves a hand to the underside of my jaw, drawing my mouth up to meet his.

The kiss is deep and tender.  It’s as if every part of our souls that called out for the other over the past few days is finally being heard.  When our mouths part, his comes back for two, three, four tiny kisses at my bottom lip, and then looks me in the eyes.

“Our future,” he says with a sweet smile, “Will have much more of that.”

“Mmm, is that so?” I say, finally able to smile again.

“Oho, that’s only the beginning,” he says with a laugh.  “The first thing I’m going to do when we are on the other side of this ordeal is shut you away in a room and memorize every inch of you.   I’m going to learn every possible way to make you scream with pleasure.”

I begin to giggle at the delicious thought.

“Hmm… if I’m going to be making you scream so much,” he says comically, “You should learn a spell or two that will keep others from hearing… Or maybe we should just book a foreign holiday… We could sail to a deserted island….”

I’m laughing in earnest for the first time since he tangled himself up in that servant’s uniform at Portia’s.  He looks at me with a comfortable warmth.

“I don’t know what makes me speak so brazenly to you,” he whispers, “Yes, I admit I have a flirtatious personality, but I have never spoken to anyone that way… But the way you react to it makes me think it was something I did to make you laugh when we were together before, in the time of our lost memories… And I know we were most certainly together then…. I suppose some part of my psyche just came right back to it again when I saw you and decided to speak to you this way when I wanted to hear you laugh...  I could scarce believe some of the things coming out of my mouth the day you searched me in your shop… Although I’d never have admitted it at the time.”

“I’m sure you’re in my missing memories, too,” I whisper.  “When you broke into the shop the night we met, I knew I knew you… I couldn’t stop looking at your face.  I couldn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach. It was like lightening had hit me.”

“What matters is that we’ve found each other again,” Julian breathes, stroking the hair at my temples with gentle fingertips, “We fell back together, the way we belong.  The memory my heart alone knew must be what really brought me back to Vesuvia.”

I smile serenely, dwelling in his gentle touch, determined to soak it in.

“You know, I still don’t get it,” he says, “Out of all the people in the world, you chose me... Despite everything, you chose me…”

I shift deeper into his embrace, hugging him hard around the middle, my head resting on his chest.  I hear his heart.  His arms draw me in.

“I will always choose you,” I whisper.

“It must be my personal magnetism, eh?”

I start to laugh and pull myself up to seated to see his face.  Oh, if he’s grinning like that, he must be feeling reassured.

“I’ll show you magnetism,” I whisper with a note of mischief in my voice.

“Oho, I’m sure you will,” he says lowly, sitting up to meet me.

I rest my fingers on his jaw, tilting his head to just the right angle.  His laugh melts into a groan as our lips meet.  He curls an arm around my waist, pulling me practically into his lap.

“Sevrina, you always know just what I want,” he breathes.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders to steady myself, and kiss him again.  Seconds drift by, then minutes, then he pulls back, reluctantly.

“Sevrina, believe me when I say there is nothing I desire more than to stay in this room with you for the rest of the night,” he says softly.  I know what he’s going to say.  “We still have things to do.  Rituals to conduct, ominous words to chant.”

He’s right, and it gives me comfort to hear him say it.

“Maybe we’ll finish this later?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and cheeky grin.

“Something to look forward to,” I whisper, “Something to fight for.”

He laces his fingers with mine.

“Thank you, Sevrina,” he says softly.

It’s good to see him smile again. 

“I love you, Julian.”

“And I love you.”

Climbing off the bed, I offer him my hand.  He takes it, pulling himself to his feet, and we walk to the garden side by side, our fingers laced together, our love bolstering our bravery and strength.

 

When we finally emerge into the garden, Asra and Nadia are talking.  Their words are lost under the murmur of the fountain.  Asra has shed his jacket.  At his feet, a protective circle is scraped into the dirt.  Bowls of water sit at the cardinal points.  I recognize this as a transportation spell, but the symbols etched around each bowl of water are unfamiliar to me.  I pause a moment to inhale the perfume of the peonies, and then we meet them.

“You two were gone a while,” Asra says as they notice us approach. “Are you alright?”

I’m about to answer when a frazzled looking servant runs up to Nadia and whispers to her.  I catch the words _synchronized swan flock_ and _lemon, not lavender_.  Nadia turns to look at us.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid,” she says, “The Masquerade is almost upon us and there’s still more work to do… I will ensure that you are not disturbed.  Take as long as you need.

“Thank you, Nadia,” Asra and I say in unison.

“Good luck,” she says with a smile, and walks away with the servant trailing behind her, listing one crisis after another, and they ascend the stairs toward the palace.

Asra doesn’t waste any time getting to the ritual.

“Sevrina, you sit here,” he says, pointing to one section of the circle, “And Ilya, you sit here.”

We obey his orders with attention, taking seats on the ground within the circle, facing each other, and Asra takes a breath.

“I’m going to send you into this other realm.  You’ll be asleep here while your minds travel.  I will be your anchor, Sevrina.  I will attach a sort of… safety line to you.  If you’re in danger, just yank on it and I’ll know to pull the two of you back.  But that doesn’t mean you should let your guard down.  Other realms don’t always follow the same rules as ours.  They can be dangerous.  So Ilya, whatever happens, follow Sevrina’s lead.  She’s a skilled magician, and her intuition is very good. She’ll protect you.”

Asra pauses a moment to let us take this information in.

“Is everyone ready?” he pipes in after a little silence.

“I think so,” Julian says, “Are you ready? I’m ready.”

“So am I,” I say softly.

Asra nods.  “Now everyone’s ready.  Close your eyes.”

I focus on Julian’s familiar presence across from me.  Asra’s magic washes over us.

“Sevrina, please be careful,” I hear it say.

The world falls away.

I feel like I’m floating.

Awareness returns to me all at once.  I _am_ floating, submerged in deep water.  Somehow, it seems almost familiar, as if it’s just one step away from a dream I’ve had before.  And like in a dream, if I think I don’t need to breathe, I won’t…

Shafts of light pierce the murky water.  Finally, I can see Julian thrashing in the water ahead of me.  I catch his flailing arm, and pull him towards the surface.

We break through to the air, and I brace Julian as he gasps and splutters for breath. He turns to me with panic across his face.

“Sevrina, are you alright?” he says, his eyes frantically searching me for signs of injury.  I rest my hands on his arms, smiling reassuringly at him.

“I’m alright,” I say softly, “I’m alright, Julian, you’re alright.”

“You didn’t inhale any water, did you?  No bumps or bruises or—?  You’re awfully relaxed for someone who nearly drowned, aren’t you?”

“Shh,” I say, “I didn’t nearly drown, I just… decided I didn’t need to breathe.”

“What kind of logic is that?” he asks, looking very unimpressed, “Is that a magic thing?  Or is it an… other realm thing?  Where are we?  Did we make it?”

I get to my feet and take a good look at our surroundings.  A thick tangle of mangrove tree press in all around us, their branches draped with vines.  The water is now only waist-deep.  It should have been impossible for us to be submerged. But maybe that’s just how things work here.

“This must be the Hanged Man’s realm,” I say in awe, “The ritual worked.”

“Really?” Julian exhales, “And that safety line Asra was talking about—did that work?”

A translucent, silvery thread dangles from my waist.  I can feel a faint echo of Asra’s magic.  If I tug on the loose end, he’ll be able to pull us back.

“Yes, it’s right here.”

Julian looks at me, not understanding.  “I don’t see anything, but I trust you.”

We take a moment to survey our surroundings.

“There’s no path,” Julian says matter-of-factly, “So I guess one direction is as good as another.  How about…” He closes his eye and spins in circles until he wobbles dizzily.  I can’t withhold a laugh—Gods, I love him.  Just when I’m afraid he’ll fall, he flings out his arm, pointing, and opens his eye.

“That way!” he says.  “Shall we?”

I smile.  If he’s afraid, he is doing a good job of covering it up.

“Let’s go,” I say.

We set off into the forest together, wading through water and ducking under vines. It’s impossible to keep any coherent sense of direction here, but we walk on regardless.

“Sevrina,” he says softly as something catches his eye up ahead, “Do you see that?”

Some twenty feet in front of us, I can see something flickering.  Julian gasps in amazement when we get a clear look.

A spherical distortion hangs in the air.  Inside it is a tea set, frozen mid-fall.  Streams of spilling tea, wisps of steam and tumbling cups, saucers and sugar cubes hang motionless, as if they were simply suspended in time.

“What is that?”  He whispers in amazement, “How is it doing that?”

He eye bright with curiosity, he reaches out to touch the bubble.  A frisson of alarm shoots down my spine.  I catch his wrist.

“Sevrina?” he asks softly.

“Don’t touch it,” I say.  “We don’t know what might happen.”

He pulls his hand back, nodding.

“Oh yes, you’re right, of course,” he says, now feeling hesitant, “First rule of adventuring:  Don’t touch anything until you’re sure it won’t eat you.”

I laugh and we turn to carry on through the forest.  As we walk, we pass more bubbles, all playing host to objects frozen in time. A lightning bolt mid-strike, the forking branches of electricity as thin and delicate as fern fronds.  A writing desk, its surface clear but for a stack of blank paper and a quill balanced on an inkpot.  An hourglass, sand caught pouring from a crack in its lower bulb.  Not a single grain moves in the bubble.

“I wonder what all these things mean,” Julian wonders aloud, “And who put them here? Sevrina, look!”

He points past me to a ribbon of clear water that cuts through the murky water.  It winds under an arch of mangrove roots and into a darker part of the forest.  I can’t see more than twenty feet down it.  It’s the closest thing to a path I’ve seen since we arrived.

“If I’ve learned anything,” Julian laughs, “It’s that paths like these are always shortcuts!  What do you say, Sevrina?  How about an adventure?  It might be dangerous, but…”

“I like a little danger,” I tease.

“Oho, that’s what I like to hear!” he laughs, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?”

Ducking under the arch of roots, we follow the path of clear water deeper into the forest.

“You know, so far, this… hasn’t been all that different from my usual adventures,” he says comfortably.  “I mean, there’s been more uneasiness and magic, but still… actually, it reminds me of the time I paddled a canoe down the Atapran coast.  Did I ever tell you about that?”

I smile.  I love his stories.

“There I was, in a leaky canoe,” he says, spreading his hands for emphasis, “And I was with only one paddle and the regent’s favourite terrier.  And…”

As we walk, he tells me the story of a grand dognapping, full of swashbuckling and intrigue.  The path takes a sudden curve around a broad-trunked tree, and keeps going until we make a full lap.  There on an island of dry land in front of us, is an ancient staircase.  I know it wasn’t there before.

We stare at each other for a moment before Julian warily approaches it.

“What a mysterious find, eh?” he says in awe, “Anything strange about it?  Besides… well, the obvious?”

I’ve been looking closely as well.  “Not that I can tell,” I say.

“Hmm.”

He prods the lowest step warily.  Nothing happens.

“You know, that reminds me…” Julian whispers, “I ran up a staircase like this in Atapra…. So, I’ve got the goods under my arm, and I’m retreating up the stairs duelling three men—“

He hops onto the lowest step, and starts walking backwards up the stairs, miming a swordfight.  I suddenly feel very wary…

“Julian…”

Absorbed in his story, he keeps climbing.

“Julian, stop!” I cry out.  But I’m too late.  Julian takes one more step up the staircase, and his foot meets nothing but air.  With a yelp of surprise, he tumbles backwards, off the top of the staircase.  I run around to the back, my heart in my throat.

“I’m alright,” he calls.  A thick hammock of vines cradles him.  Although he’s hanging at an awkward angle, he doesn’t seem hurt.

“Sorry, Sevrina, I got a little carried away there, didn’t I?” he mutters, “Lucky these were here.”

He tugs on one of the vines for emphasis, and pauses… before he grins.

Gods, I know that look.

With a few purposeful movements, he twists in the vines, entangling himself further.  Despite his precarious position, he seems far from distressed.  Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Oh no, Sevrina,” he says teasingly, “It looks like I’ve gotten a little… tied up.  Whatever will I do?”

The curve of his mouth is positively inviting; the arch of his back utterly shameless.

He tilts his head, drawing my eyes to the long line of his neck.

“I don’t bite, but I don’t mind if you do,” he says seductively.

When I step closer, he bites his lip, looking eagerly up at me.  But instead of biting him, I lean in to kiss him, and he groans against my lips.  He squirms, trying to get closer, but he’s thoroughly entangled.

“You know I don’t mind if you want to play rough,” he says in a throaty voice.  “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Do you like pain?”  I whisper, winding my fingers in his hair.

“I like passion,” he replies, his eye dark with desire, “And feeling pain can be a blissful expression of it.  Sometimes I crave the intensity of it—a little suffering can be ecstatic...  Sometimes welts and little bruises are as sweet as kisses to me, although I’d never dream of inflicting them on you…”

I brush my lips along the line of his jaw, and he lets out a soft, pleased sigh.  I catch the soft skin just under his ear between my teeth and he groans, biting his lips.

“Mmm, Sevrina, please….”

“Be patient,” I tease.

This close, I can feel the movement of his throat as he swallows, the tension in his body, drawn tight as a bowstring.  When he finally relaxes, I bite the side of his neck softly, and increase the pressure ever so slightly, making him groan and squirm, trying to get closer, but he has tangled himself up so thoroughly he can barely move.  I draw back a little, and he makes a desperate noise, pulling at the vines.  I am dying to tease him a little.

“Relax, my Love,” I whisper.  This time, he stops struggling immediately, watching me with an eager expression.  Once he’s completely still, I open wide the collar of his shirt to bare an expanse of his beautiful pale skin. 

“You’re sublime, Julian,” I whisper, stroking his throat with my fingers as I stare into his eye.  “I’m sure you’re the most tempting thing I’ve ever laid eyes on… If you only knew the way my hands wander me when I’m alone with my thoughts of you…”

I kiss his throat and he sighs urgently.

“Oh Gods, Sevrina,” he whispers lustily, “Do you really?”

My low, soft laughter is all the affirmation he needs, and he heaves a desperate, eager breath as I kiss along his jaw, ear and sideburn.

“If I’m very good, will you let me watch you next time?” he whispers huskily, “I promise I’ll be very, very good…”

Laughing softly through my kisses, I let my mouth wander lower down and he trembles in delight as I bite the muscle joining his neck and shoulder.  Almost completely immobilized, all he can do is gasp out blurry encouragements and sigh my name.

I’m burning for him.  His pleasure is so intense it’s nearly unbearable to resist.  I pull back not quite out of reach, and he strains against the vines so that he can kiss me again.  I want to reach down and stroke his very obvious arousal through his tight trousers, but I know we have to get answers…  We steal a few more indulgent moments to ourselves before I reluctantly step back with a huffing breath.

“No please,” he whimpers, his cheeks and chest flushed, “Please, more…”

“We need to keep moving, Julian,” I whisper between heaving breaths, “I don’t know how long we have here…”

Julian groans in frustration.  “You’re right,” he admits, “Business before pleasure…”

“Don’t worry, Love,” I mutter lowly, “I will remember this game, and we will certainly play it again….”

I step back and he hangs there for a moment before he begins laughing softly.

“I really am tangled,” he says.  “I need your help.”

“Hold still,” I say, chuckling, and hold up a hand and focus, calling the sensation of heat, rather than an actual flame, to my palm.  The vines binding Julian flinch back, curling away from the heat.  With a quick twist, he wriggles free, and drops back into the water.

“I suppose that wasn’t much of a shortcut,” He sighs, “But I sure as hell enjoyed it… did you enjoy it?”

I smile.  “I did…. I look forward to taking you further next time….”

He grins and links our arms, and we follow the trail of clear water away from the ancient staircase.

The further into the forest we go, the darker and heavier the atmosphere seems.  A thick fog creeps between the roots and branches, choking the air.

“Should this be happening?” he asks.

“I don’t know…”

Something catches my eye in the distance…  I think I can see the silhouette of a person.  They’re shrouded in fog, but I can make out a raven’s head.

“Sevrina,” Julian breathes, “That’s... Is that him?  I—I think that’s him!”

Julian rushes into the fog towards the distant figure, stumbling in his haste, nearly falling on his face.

“Fuck!” Julian grumbles, “Of all the times to get my fucking boot caught…!”

He tugs and then reaches down to try and dislodge whatever it is.

“What in the…. Sevrina, be careful!  Something’s wrong!”

I try to move toward him, but jolt to a halt—I hadn’t even realized I was starting to sink.  I can feel the ground underfoot shifting, starting to suck me under.  With a shout of alarm, Julian starts struggling in earnest, trying to reach me.  All around us, the trees come alive.  Leaves rustle and wood groans, branches stretching towards us.  With a great effort, he manages to wrench his hand free, and almost overbalances from the force.  He catches himself on a tree root, but leaves behind a bloody handprint as he struggles upright.

The mark on his throat flares, but his scraped hand isn’t healing, it keeps dripping blood.

“Julian, your mark isn’t working!” I call out in alarm.

“I don’t care!  Hang on Sevrina, I’ll save you!”

“Calm down and think!” I shout.  My words cut through his panic. He hesitates mid-flail, looking around wildly.

“Think, think….” He mutters aloud, “The more we struggle, the more we get dragged in…which means…”

The ground shifts under my feet, and I lose my balance.

“Sevrina!”

The last thing I see is him lunging towards me, before I’m dragged underwater.

In a panic, I grab hold of the silvery cord around my waist, and pull.  I feel an answering tug, and everything goes dark.

When I open my eyes, I’m back in the garden… Julian is looking around wildly, still getting his bearings.  The air is perfumed with the sweet scent of peonies.  Morning light plays in the fountain’s spray.  We must have spent hours in the Hanged Man’s realm.

“You’re awake!” Asra exclaims in relief, “Thank goodness…! I felt you pull the safety line… what happened?”

“We saw the Hanged Man,” Julian says, “Or at least I think it was him, but we got trapped in a bog.”

“We couldn’t reach him,” I explain, my chin quivering in the wake of my failure. “Is there anything you can do?”

Asra frowns.  “Of all the Arcana, the Hanged Man is one of the most difficult for me to reach,” he sighs.  “If we had a few months I could probably help Ilya create a personalized way in, but…”

“We don’t have that long.” Julian finishes, an air of frustration overtaking him.  “I appreciate that we tried this, but it didn’t work, so let’s do things my way.”

The air feels heavy.  The reality of the situation is sinking in—it won’t be long before Julian is taken away to be executed.

“I’m afraid I have to go for now,” Asra says, “I have some preparations to make…. You should get ready, too.”

“Asra, thank you for trying,” I whisper.  I barely manage to hold back the tears bubbling in me.

“Ilya, I hope you’re right about this,” Asra says softly, coming forward to bend down and shake his hand.  Julian looks astonished, but the corner of his mouth turns up into a wary smile.  For a moment I think Asra will say something else, but he only pats Julian on the arm and turns to walk back to the palace.

We sit in silence for a few long moments, Julian looks at me just as heavy tears stream down my face.  I haven’t the strength or energy reserve to hold them back any longer.  To be so close, and yet so far… Julian’s features are crossed with upset as he looks at me.  He knows I feel that I’ve failed him.

He gets to his feet and steps toward me, bending to take my hands and help me up.  When we are both standing, he draws me flush against his long, slender body, one arm around my waist and the other hand at the back of my head, comfortingly petting my hair while I cling to him and quietly weep.

“Oh, my beautiful Sevrina,” he sighs into my ears.  “Please don’t cry.  This isn’t over yet.”

He kisses my hair and I cling harder.  My arms start to shake.

“Julian, I’m terrified… I couldn’t bear to lose you…”

“I need you to have hope,” he breathes, “Believe that you _won’t_ lose me.  Remember the future we’re planning, and hope for it… If you lose hope, what chance do I have in this?”

I pull back enough to look into his eye.  He’s serious.  And more importantly, he hasn’t lost hope.

“We will have that future, Sevrina,” he whispers.

Just then we are both startled by a figure bursting through the bushes.  It’s Portia, and she looks frantic.

“Ilya, we are leaving!  Now!”

She brandishes a set of lock picks.

“Pasha, where did you get those?” Julian asks in surprise, and then switches gears completely and says, “Pasha, let me explain—“

“I don’t care if you’re guilty or not, Ilya!” she says in an annoyed tone, “You’re my brother.  I’m not going to let you die.  Now listen—Mazelinka’s outside in a carriage.  We’ve got you passage out of town…”

“Wait,” Julian says, trying to calm her.

“I have a disguise for you… Now let me unchain….” Portia stops dead in her tracks and looks up at him, puzzled.  “Why aren’t you in chains?”

A dulcet voice sighs, “Portia…”

She freezes. Then slowly and reluctantly turns to face Nadia, who has heard everything.

“M….M… Miliady…”

Nadia looks at Portia, and the lock picks in her hands, then her gaze sweeps over me, then Julian.

“Good morning, Portia,” Nadia says softly.

The silence stretches agonizingly.

Portia is sheet white.

“Milady,” she sighs.  “I—I’ll tell you everything….”

Nadia holds up a hand, hushing her with a soft smile.  “I already know.  As I told Sevrina, there is no cause for alarm.”  A smile touches the corners of her mouth.  “I know how… complicated… family can be.  I’m not upset.  I want to help.  I only wish I’d known sooner.”

Portia looks stunned.  “Milady…. I….” and she bursts into tears, falling to the Countess’ feet.  “Thank you, Nadia…. Please forgive me… I shouldn’t have kept such a secret..!”

Next to me, Julian sags in relief.  I can feel a huge weight lift from everyone’s shoulders, especially Portia’s.  Nadia crouches down to urge Portia to her feet, and holds her close when they rise.  She tenderly wipes the tears from her cheeks and kisses her across the forehead until she’s calm.  Then Nadia looks up at Julian.

“Doctor, have you not informed Portia of your plan?” The Countess asks.

“We haven’t had the time,” I explain.

Julian takes a deep breath and starts talking.  He explains everything to Portia—his mark, the vision of the Hanged Man, and the urgency to find his cure.  In the end, Portia plants her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Are you fucking serious?” She says at last, causing Nadia to have to stifle a chuckle.  “Your plan involves the chance that you’ll _survive being hanged_?  There must be another way!”

I gesture at the spell circle etched at our feet.

“We tried,” I sigh.  “I… I failed.”

“Stop that, now,” Julian sighs, taking my hand. “You didn’t fail.  You could never fail me.”  He looks very serious.  There is a faraway look in his eye.

Nadia sighs deeply.  “I’m sorry, Doctor.  It’s time.”

“Sevrina, Pasha,” Julian mutters lowly.  “I understand if you don’t want to be there.”

Portia and I are both crying steady tears.

“As if I’d leave you to face this alone!” Portia exclaims, rushing to embrace him, “I… I’m going to find Mazelinka… I’ll try to explain.”  She looks to Nadia.  “Please… don’t leave without me.”

Nadia nods, and Portia runs off.

“I’m not leaving you alone in this, either,” I manage to say weakly.   “If it’s the only chance we have, I’ll see it through for better or worse.”

Julian embraces me and we kiss.  Nadia averts her eyes, allowing us just this last moment of privacy before two guards approach, one of them carrying Julian’s dark coat.

“I love you, Sevrina,” Julian says with urgency as we’re pulled apart.  “Don’t lose hope.  Keep tight hold of it.  For me.”

He puts his hand over his heart.  I nod weakly and put my hand over mine.

“Our future,” he whispers.  “We will have it.  Don’t give in to doubt.”

I nod again and whisper, “I love you, Julian.”

The first guard helps Julian to shrug into his coat.  The second approaches with chains, and my heart lurches.  Julian puts his hands behind his back, expecting to be manacled, only to stop when Nadia waves them off.

“There is no need for those,” Nadia says sternly to the guard.  “The Doctor is cooperating.”  Her eyes are full of concern, but she has a part to play.

“Are you ready?”  She asks softly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Countess,” Julian replies.

Nadia extends a hand and pats Julian on the shoulder.  “I hope you’re right, Doctor.”

When she draws back, the two guards flank him and march him off.  He looks over his shoulder at me until he’s out of sight. Nadia puts her arm around my shoulders and I fold up into her embrace.

“Sevrina, I wish I could do more,” she says sadly.  “I’m so very sorry.”

I squeeze her.  “Nadia, I don’t blame you.”

She wipes the tears from my cheeks comfortingly.  “You are the strongest person I have ever met,” she says.  “Doctor Devorak is lucky to have you… I sincerely hope he is right about this.”

“Thank you, Nadia,” I say, pulling away from her embrace and trying to collect myself.  “He seems so sure… I hope…”

Suddenly, Portia bustles back to us.  Nadia opens her arms to her and Portia flies into her embrace tearfully.

“Portia,” Nadia breathes, “Oh, my darling, please forgive me… I wish I could fix this…”

Nadia’s hands pet over Portia’s hair and she kisses the crown of her head.  After a moment, Portia pulls back to look at her face.

“Nadia, it isn’t your fault,” she says.  “How could you have known?  I should not have kept it secret…”

Nadia sighs heavily, “I couldn’t bear to hurt you, Portia.”

I avert my gaze as they share a brief kiss. We stand in quiet a moment and then Portia speaks.

“I’ll drive to the coliseum with Mazelinka,” she says as she wipes her eyes.  “She has no one else.”

Nadia nods her head and places her hand on Portia’s cheek.  “Sevrina and I will ride down together, then… We will meet up again after… Portia… please know I hope your brother is right about this.”

Portia manages a warm smile and presses her cheek into Nadia’s elegant hand.

“I know,” she whispers.  She kisses her palm, and then steps away.  “I will see you after… Sevrina?”

“Yes?”

Portia hugs me hard.  “Don’t give up hope,” she whispers.  “I’ll see you there.”

With that, she rushes away from us and back to Mazelinka, who is waiting in a carriage outside the palace.  Nadia looks at me sadly.

“We should get to the carriage,” she says softly.  I nod, and follow her to the palace doors wordlessly, desperate prayers beating in my brain like a caged bird.  We descend the stairs to the bridge, me a silent step behind the Countess.  When we reach the carriage, the driver opens the door for us to step inside.  Nadia steps in first, and I follow, taking the seat across from her. 

“I want you to know I’ve arranged to have him brought back to the palace afterward,” Nadia says softly as the carriage begins to move.  “Hopefully all goes according to plan, but if it shouldn’t, heaven forbid, I will give him to you and Portia to….”

I start weeping silently and wave my hand, wordlessly asking her to stop.

“Forgive me, Sevrina,” she whispers.  “I only wanted to do right by you.”

I hush her softly.  “I know, Nadia… I understand, but I just… I need to believe this is going to work…”

Nadia nods. And we sit in silence for several minutes before she speaks.

“Sevrina, will you tell me something?”

I wipe my cheeks and look up at her.  “What is it, Nadia?”

She looks uneasy.  “I’d hate to think that this investigation has tortured you,” she whispers. “I’d hate to think that from the beginning you’d loved him and I’d asked this of you….”

I shake my head.  “No, Nadia, it wasn’t like that,” I explain.  “I met Julian the night I met you, just shortly after you left the shop… but something was so familiar about him…. Nadia, I’ve told you I’m missing all my memories from before my accident three years ago… But Asra’s told me…. I know before then that Julian and I were together, and when I was investigating…  He’d returned to Vesuvia to search for answers from his missing memories, too… You’ll surely understand I couldn’t send a man to the gallows without knowing all of the facts…. Our paths crossed several times, and I was trying to find the truth…. And my heart… Oh, Gods, my heart still knew him, Nadia….”

Nadia nods her head soberly.  “Those nights that you were not at the palace…”

I look her in the eye.  “Yes, I was with him, trying to get answers to all of these questions…. I was learning his story, and my heart fell back into step with his the way we were in the time we can’t remember…. Oh Gods, I love him… I can’t bear this…”

Nadia sweeps from her side of the carriage to mine and puts her arms around me comfortingly.  I put my hand over my heart and sob, the fear is unbearable.  She pets my hair and I weep openly in her embrace for a long while before I am too tired to weep any longer.  I sit in her arms and try to calm my breathing.  It isn’t long before I see we are approaching the Coliseum, and I begin to cast my magic out to Julian for protection.

When the carriage comes to a halt, my heart lurches.

“I will have to be up on the gallows,” Nadia says softly as she takes her arms from around me and I sit up.  “I’m so very sorry I can’t stay with you through this.”

I nod.  “I understand…. Just… Please tell him that I love him.  Tell him I’m here.”

Nadia squeezes my hand and the coachman opens the door.

“I will tell him,” she whispers.

“I’ll try to find Portia,” I sigh.

The town square is packed with people.  Some of them seem positively celebratory.  Others are clutching handkerchiefs or each other, distress written clearly on their faces.  Mazelinka has a comforting arm around Portia toward the front, but the crowd is dense and I can’t get to them.  A wooden gallows has been hastily built in front of the fountain.  After a short while, three figures ascend to the platform—Nadia, Julian, and a man whose face is hidden in a black hood.  A hush falls over the crowd.  Julian’s eye is scanning the throng, searching for my face.  Nadia steps forward.

“Doctor Devorak,” Nadia says with a sense of ceremony, “You’ve been sentenced to death by hanging for the murder of Count Lucio.  Do you have any last words?”

Julian has put up his villainous façade once more, but I can still see his eye searching for me.

“So, here I am, Vesuvia, facing justice after all these years!”

There are cries from the crowd.

“Murderer!”

“Coward!”

“Burn in Hell!”

With a flutter of his cloak, he flings his arms wide, inviting the boos and jeers.

“Condemn me if you like,” He calls out, “But first, answer me this:  Who among you can really say you miss the Count, and not just his parties?”

The boos die down, and a murmur goes through the crowd.

“What did he do for the sick and the dying?” Julian continues.  “Nothing!  When did help come for the Flooded District?  Never!  He was a plague on the city!  A frivolous Count who threw lavish parties while Vesuvia withered!”

The crowd roars in response.  People raise their fists, shouting in agreement.

“Don’t think too unkindly of me, dear Vesuvia,” he says, “I did it all for you, and I regret nothing.  History will vindicate me.”

He bows to the crowd, who is now cheering as much as booing him.

I know it’s all a part of the plan, but dread gnaws at my stomach and won’t let me go.  The executioner approaches with the noose, but Julian ignores him, searching the crowd until he finally spots me.  I put my hand over my heart to tell him I am holding on to hope.  He holds my gaze and mouths _I love you_.  I send an _I love_ you with my magic, one last spell to help him survive, and he smiles as he gazes at me.  I steel my resolve and keep eye contact until the executioner places a black sack over his face.  Everything else seems to fade away.  The noises, the jostling crowd, the sun beating down on my shoulders.

Only one thing matters.  He’s going to survive this.  He will.  He must.

The executioner pulls the lever.  The rope goes taut. 


	14. Death

The crowd surges, screaming and cheering and weeping, but all I can hear is a dull roar.  The only thing that breaks through my shock is the thought of Julian. 

I need to get to him.

Clarity returns to me in a rush.  I fight my way through the crowd, but the press of people is suffocating.  I can’t get close.  Someone grabs my arm. I turn to see Portia.

“I’m so glad I found you,” she heaves, “It’s impossible to get to him. We need to get out of this mess and back to the palace… That’s where…. Where they’ll take him….Come on, we should be there when he wakes up!”

She is trying as hard as I am to believe and to hope.

She leads me away from the square, but as I follow her, a wave of exhaustion washes over me.  I stumble against the wall, my knees giving out.  My heart pounds painfully in my chest.

“Sevrina!” Portia cries.

Darkness eats over my vision and Portia’s concerned voice fades way.

When I come back to myself, I’m afloat in a starry void.  This must be a dream.  I drift vaguely downwards, buoyed in a peaceful haze.  All my worries feel far away.  My feet touch a solid surface.  I find myself standing on an island of stardust.

I’m not alone… I sense a familiar presence behind me.

It’s Julian, standing on another island.  He’s staring off into the distance, looking confused.  If the plan worked, then he’d be at the boundary between realms… Here, where I am.

I call out, but though the void swallows my voice, he turns.  He reaches out to me, across the gulf.  Our islands are drifting apart, but maybe… Maybe I can reach him.

I reach out to him and our fingers catch… After a moment of fumbling, I clasp his hand.  He pulls me in until we’re both standing on the same sparkling plain.

“Sevrina,” he exhales is disbelief, “Is… Is it really you?”

I could ask him the same thing.  I touch his cheek.  His skin is cool, but solid under my fingers.

“Oh, Kitten, I’m so glad to see you,”  He says, “I want to ask you something… and I… even now, I want to know the answer…. What kind of future do you want, Sevrina?  One of adventure or as quiet neighbourhood heroes?”

I smile.  “Why do we have to choose?”

Julian smiles wide.

I blink and suddenly I’m standing on the deck of a boat.  Julian stands beside me, shading his eyes from the sun.

“Wind’s on our side today, Sevrina,” he says.  “Let’s see…there’s an island with a lovely port city about a day’s sailing from here… I’ve been to a lot of rowdy places, but Port Tremaire might be the rowdiest.  It’s been a while since I’ve rescued you from a bar fight, hasn’t it?”

I laugh.

“Now, now, I was winning that fight!” he exclaims, “And the one before that.  And the one before that!”

He grins, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I laugh.

“Anything you say, Julian,” I chuckle.

I blink.  I’m in the shop, tying bundles of springwood flowers with string to hang up and be dried.  Julian opens the back door and shouts in, shaking off the rain from his coat.

“I’m home, Darling,” he calls in, before turning and seeing me at the counter.  “Oh?  I thought you’d be upstairs relaxing by now.  Sorry I’m so late getting in—it seems there’s been some spoiled fish sold in the city and there were several cases of food poisoning in the clinic today.”

“Oh dear,” I say softly as I pin a bundle to the ceiling beam.  “Will they be alright?”

Julian hangs his coat on a peg by the door to dry.

“Yes, they just need plenty of water and plenty of rest.  Nothing a few days of that won’t fix.”

He comes to me and bends over the counter to kiss my cheek.

“Can this wait for tomorrow?” He asks softly, motioning to my herbs.  “I was missing you today and I want to be near you.”

I smile.  “Yes, it can wait.”

I blink.  Snow crunches under my feet.  There’s an icy bite in the air.  When I shiver, Julian’s arm tightens around me.  We’re standing at the peak of a mountain.  Below us, around us, as far as I can see, snowcapped mountains stretch towards the sky.

I blink, and I’m sitting on the couch above the shop with my lacework in my lap, contentedly listening to Julian play a vielle.

Each time I blink, I see something new. Buildings carved from translucent marble ring with the sound of a thousand voices, raised in song.  Julian tousling with a puppy on the floor while I read a book.  A spice vendor smokes lazily as Julian tries to coax out a better price.  Julian teaching me how to make hashed potato cakes the way his grandmothers did in Nevivon.  A fathomless blue ocean stretches around our ship, its serene surface broken by pillars and sculptures of pristine ice.  New shores and unfamiliar faces flash by me, faster and faster, but no matter what, Julian is always there with me, chasing the horizon, or warm and happy in our loving home.

My eyes drift close, and when I open them again, I’m in the starry void, alone. 

That dream….was it a dream?  Or a vision? A hope?

The stars wink out around me, and I surface with a splash, blinking water from my eyes.

Is this…?

It is.  I’m back in the Hanged Man’s realm.  I still don’t see anything like a path.  There’s nothing to do but get up and start walking.  It seems darker and quieter without Julian here.  I miss him.  I miss his jokes and stories and encouragement…

If the plan worked, I’ll find him here.  I’m sure of it.  I hold onto that thought, and let it pull me onward.

Behind me, something rustles.

I whirl around, my senses on high alert, but it’s just a vine slipping off the branch of a gnarled tree.

…Wait.  There wasn’t a tree there before.

Just then, the trees come to life, swaying and groaning as they grasp at me.  Branches and roots seize me, coiling around my limbs and lifting me into the air.  I kick and flail, trying to get loose.  The more I struggle, the tighter they squeeze.  Finally I stop.  I can’t summon the strength to fight any more.  When I stop moving, so do the branches.  I close my eyes and breathe, trying to calm my heart rate.  For a long minute, I hang there, absolutely still, and then with a wooden groan, the branches start moving, carrying me through the forest and into the fog.

The trees around me sway, the susurrus of leaves filling my senses.  It almost sounds approving.  Finally, they let me to my feet outside a clearing.  Inside the ring of roots and branches, the air is perfectly clear.  A tall, thin lantern casts a pool of light.  Within it, Julian kneels, holding his head in his hands, groaning with pain. 

I call out, but the fog swallows my voice.  He doesn’t react.

Across from Julian stands a motionless figure.  The Hanged Man.

“I see you’re here at last,” he says.  He turns his head so that one beady eye is visible to me, and winks.

Julian murmurs in pain, holding his head.  The mark in his throat is alight and pulsing to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Yes, your memories are returning to you, now,” The Hanged Man mutters.

After a few long moments of grimacing pain, Julian gets to his feet, wavering unsteadily.

“What… What the _fuck_?”  He breathes, his eyes wide with horror of a memory, “I.. This is… It can’t be.  It’s impossible.”

“Not only is it possible,” the Hanged man says coolly, “It’s the truth.”

Julian is quiet for a moment before he raises his head to look at the Hanged Man with desperate eyes.

“All this time,” he exhales heavily, “I thought I’d murdered the Count… I thought I was coming back to face justice… even when I learned the truth, when I discovered my innocence, I knew that wasn’t the whole story…”

The Hanged Man nods soberly.  “You remembered some of what happened that night, but still missing a piece.  The answer to a vital question.  Why?  Why were you going to Lucio’s room?”

“To kill him,” Julian answers in an exasperated laugh.  “And the only reason I didn’t is… because I didn’t get there in time?  But why?  Why would I want to…?”

A wave of realization washes over him as he pieces together this flood of lost memory.

“Ah, there it is,” The Hanged Man says softly.

Julian holds his trembling hands in front of his face, staring at them with horror.

“He… he was… He was the source of the plague?”  Julian whispers.  “All those years… all the suffering and death… it was because of him?”

The Hanged Man nods.

“Lucio’s existence was tied to the existence of the plague.  Wherever he went, it followed.  When he settled in Vesuvia, so did the plague.”

“And killing him would have stopped it,” Julian whispers with a nod, now understanding his motive.  “That’s what you told me that night three years ago… That’s the cure.”

Julian is silent for a moment and then chuckles, thinking about his speech on the gallows.

“When I said he was a plague on the city, I didn’t realize I was being so damned literal,” he says, “But that means… if the plague is coming back, so is he… He’s coming back?  How?  How would he do that?”

The Hanged Man shrugs, feathers ruffling languidly.

“You have a plan to come back to life, don’t you?” he asks.

“This?” Julian breathes, his fingers going to the glowing mark in his throat.  A flash of recognition crosses his expression.  “This mark… it’s from you… I made a deal with you… I gave up the memories for the power to heal…..Did Lucio make a deal to come back?  Did he make it with you?”

The Hanged Man shakes his head.  “I’m not the only one capable of making deals.  There are others.  But _who_ is a question you’ll have to answer on your own.  Now you know everything I can tell you.  The rest is up to you.”

There’s silence for a few long minutes before Julian clears his throat.

“What now?” He asks softly.  “Are you going to send me back so that I can tell everyone the cure?”

“Not quite,” the Hanged Man says.

“Are you going to judge me first?” Julian asks, “Decide whether I’m worthy?”

The Hanged Man laughs raucously.

“Didn’t I just say the rest was up to you?” he says, “Indecision, introspection, inaction—they can only serve you for so long.  You stand between two realms, at a crossroads.  Only you can decide where to go now.”

“Only I can?”  Julian asks.  “Then lay it out for me, what are my options?”

The Hanged Man steps nearer to Julian.

“Your mark has just enough power left to return you to the living realm.  Then it will disappear for good.  Or you can stay here in my realm, and the cure will reach the people who need to know it.”

Again, he winks at me.

“There is much you could learn from me,” the Hanged Man offers.

Julian starts pacing in the pool of light.

“So I have to decide whether to stay or go?” he mutters to himself.  “That’s… ha.  That puts me between the devil and the deep blue sea, doesn’t it?”

“How so?”  Asks the Hanged Man.

“If I go back, it costs me this mark,” Julian sighs, “Then I won’t be able to heal anyone.”

“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”  The Hanged Man laughs.

“Well, yes,” Julian sighs, spreading his hands, “But leeches can only do so much... This mark really is better than any medical treatment I know.  No matter how fatal he poison or how high the fever, with this, I could cure anyone.”

“And without it?” The Hanged Man prods.

“I… I don’t know,” Julian sighs.  “I couldn’t even find the plague cure on my own.  I needed you to tell me…. Killing Lucio?  Anyone could have done that.  Asra. Nadia.  Hell, some of his courtiers were just waiting for a good opportunity.  Even once I knew the cure, I didn’t get there in time.   I wasn’t the one to stop him…. And now?  What good am I without this mark?”

My heart aches.  I stretch a hand out towards him, but I can’t push through the fog.  I can’t reach him.

The Hanged Man glances sidelong at me, and just barely shakes his head.  His meaning is clear—This is a decision Julian as to make on his own.

“So let’s say I do this,” Julian proposes, “I go back, I deliver the cure.”

“Then what?” The Hanged Man asks.

Julian stops pacing, staring into the fog.

“Then… then I…” and he falls silent.

“Do you have a plan for what you’ll do afterwards?” The Hanged Man asks.

“All this time, I thought I was coming back to Vesuvia to pay for my crimes,” Julian mutters, “I’d never considered that _after_ was a possibility.”

“Here,” the Hanged Man explains, “Things remain the same.  There, everything is changing.  The future is shrouded in uncertainty.  So what will you do when you reach that precipice?”

“What will I do?” Julian asks himself as a despairing look takes shape on his features.  “What I always do.  Find trouble.  Drag everyone down with me.  Run away.  Lose sleep over it.  Find new trouble.  Story of my life.  And I’ll hurt people again.  I know I will.  Pasha.  Mazelinka.  I wasn’t there for them.  And I… I wasn’t there for Sevrina…. If I stay here, I’ll be abandoning her again, but if I go back, will I do any better?  Will I ever be better?  Or will I just find another transgression, another crime to hang for?  Another way to fail her?”

A creeping dread takes root in my chest, its icy tendrils wind through my ribs.

His face suddenly drops.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, then wails in anguish as he takes his pained head in his hands.  “Oh my Gods, Sevrina, no…. I can’t fail her again…. I can’t bear it….”

What is he talking about?

“Sevrina… you’re regaining those memories now,” says the Hanged Man.

Julian’s face has gone snow white. 

“I… when I met her, I knew she seemed familiar,” he breathes.  “I wondered if she was in these memories… I grew more and more convinced of it….”

“You weren’t strangers after all, were you?” The Hanged Man laughs.

“I knew her…  She came to the palace with Asra and was helping with the plague… I met her there … I was immediately captivated by her… She was warmer and kinder than anyone I’d ever met.  She worked with me in my clinic when she wasn’t occupied with Asra’s lessons—she wanted to be a presence of comfort and care in all the strife.  Her bedside manner was everything I lacked… she knew how to comfort, to console and to help while I tried to figure out how to heal…  We became friends very quickly, and we spent all of our leisure time together… We laughed and danced and shared meals and secrets.  She was so easy to fall in love with…”

Tears flow hotly down my cheeks as Julian clutches his heart, recounting the experience of our love from this lost part of our lives.

“Oh, my Sevrina,” He heaves, “She cared for the patients, yes, but she cared for me, too, in all my mental anguish as all my efforts were met with failure,” he whispers aloud, his eyes closed, a single tear streaming down his cheek. “She used to sing to me when I was feeling troubled, and oh, she could make me laugh no matter my wretched moods… Her presence brought me such peace… Oh, Gods, she was my everything…  She kept me sane in the face of all that suffering...  In the night she would sit close to me and stroke my hair until I was able to sleep, planting these little, healing kisses along my brow while she whispered her hopes for our future.... Hopes I shared…  Oh, it was so easy to love her…”

Julian lets out a shaking breath.  He is weeping fully now.

“But when she needed me, I wasn’t there for her… At the height of the plague, when the mortality rate was at its peak, I was spending two, three, four day stretches in the dungeons without stopping even to eat, obsessively searching for the cure… I didn’t even know she’d fallen ill…”

What?

“I didn’t know until it was too late… and then she died…. Oh Gods, Sevrina…  Sevrina, I’m sorry….”

When…  when I…

“Asra was furious with me—he blamed me.  He said I’d selfishly destroyed her… I’ve carried this pit of guilt in me ever since… the weight of an unbearable sin… He wouldn’t allow me to see her body before they took her away to the Lazaret… I know he thought he was protecting her somehow, but the pain, oh Gods…”

Shock numbs my lips and steals my strength.  I stand motionless as I struggle to absorb Julian’s words.

We knew each other.  We loved each other… until I died of the plague.

Even as my conscious mind tries to reject the possibility, I know…  I can feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the headache building at my temples, in the scream locked in my chest.  In the howling silence when I try to remember my past.  It’s the truth.

I watch helplessly as he’s racked with sobs.  It takes him several minutes to collect himself, and suddenly he wipes his face and looks up with an air of determination.

“I know what I want to do,” Julian says, meeting the Hanged Man’s gaze.

“Are you certain?”

“I’ve made up my mind.”

A sudden pull yanks me away from the clearing, into the fog, and back into the waking world.  It takes me a moment to get my bearings.  I’m in the guest room at the palace, and Portia is shaking me.

"Sevrina!” she exclaims when I open my eyes.  “I’m sorry—I wanted to let you rest after you collapsed, but Ilya’s body is gone—someone took it!”

I kick off the covers.  Adrenaline surges through my veins.

“What happened?” I demand.

“Milady gave orders for a guard to take him to another guest room,” Portia explains, “But the guard says he was ambushed, and when he woke up, Ilya was gone!”

A mixture of bewilderment and fear root me to the spot.  Who could have done such a thing?  And why?

Before I can say anything, I’m startled by a _whumpf_ as something slams into the window.  I scramble to it and as soon as I open it, Malak comes screaming into the room.  Squawking frantically, he flies in a tight circle around me, then shoots out through the open door.

This can’t be coincidence… Intuition urges me after him. 

Portia and I follow Malak through the palace halls and towards the library.  A cold realization coalesces in the pit of my stomach. I know where he’s heading.

When we reach the elevator, the cage is already opened.  Someone has been here.  And recently.

Portia and I exchange a look, and Portia nods. 

“Let’s go,” she says.

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. We squeeze into the elevator together, and I pull the lever.  We sprint through the eerie hallway and the prep room.  I shove open the metal doors to the dungeon.  As I feared, Valdemar is standing on the stage in centre, scalpel poised over Julian’s body.  His eye patch is gone.

“Oh?” They say as we burst in, “What’s this?  Have you come for the show?”

“Get away from him!” I scream desperately.

“No,” Valdemar says with an unsettling smile.

“Don’t you dare!” Portia screams.  On the table, Julian’s body begins convulsing.  My heart is beating so hard I feel like it will burst.

“Oh my,” Valdemar says as they see Julian’s body twitch, “Doctor Number 069, it seems as if you’ve failed to die not once, but twice.  Let’s see if you can do it again.”

“You’ll have to go through us first!” Portia screams, seizing a spindly legged chair, and rushes Valdemar with a yell.  Screaming and cawing, Malak dives at Valdemar’s face, talons outstretched.  Valdemar stumbles back under the onslaught.  Together, Portia and Malak chase them out of the dungeon.   I rush to Julian’s side and shake him weakly by the shoulders.

“Wake up!” I plead tearfully, “Julian, please wake up!”

A moment later, the mark on his throat lights up brighter than I’ve ever seen it, and he opens his mismatched eyes slowly, lashes fluttering in adjustment to the light.  My heart leaps.

“Sevrina?”  He says, disoriented, “Is that you?  I’m not… It worked?”

I help him stagger to his feet.  The mark in his throat fades away.  He is swaying unsteadily and reaches for me.  I stand at his side to help support him, and he sags against me in relief.  The words tumble out of me.

“You… you’re alive, you’re alive….!”

“I am?” He asks, then cocks an eyebrow, “Are you sure Sevrina?  Maybe you should check.”

I surge towards him, wrapping my arms around him.  His laughter is warm against my lips.  A giddy rush of adrenaline leaves me trembling, holding onto his shoulders to stay upright.  He wavers unsteadily, falling back onto the table and drags me with him.  Flinging a hand out to brace himself, he knocks over a case of tools with a clatter.  We both ignore it.  Our lips meet again and again is desperate disbelief, in this profound joy that he is alive, he is here with me.  He makes a sound that’s equal part relief and longing.  His hands fumble over my body restlessly, trying to convince himself that yes, I’m really here.

To have him here… to hear him breathe…. To feel his heart beating with mine.  I’m dizzy with joy.

“Sevrina,” he manages to mutter softly, but I can’t stop kissing him.  He returns each kiss fervently.  Finally, when we part for breath, I look down at him and my breath catches.  His smile is soft, full of wonder and unreservedly happy.  I’ve never seen him smile like that before.

“I’ve checked,” I whisper giddily, “You’re alive!”

He laughs with me a moment until my laughter gives way to tears of relief.  He pets my hair comfortingly.

“I’m sorry if I worried you, Sevrina,” he says.

“If?” I shove his shoulder and the two of us fall into each other again, laughing and kissing and so relieved.  “Oh God, Julian, worried doesn’t cover it,” I breathe. 

He frowns ever so slightly.

“I know the sound of an impending lecture when I hear one,” he says.

“Believe me, as much as I’d like to scream at you, I’m just so relieved it worked that I don’t have it in me to be angry.”

He lets go of me so I can climb off him, and I offer him a hand as he pulls himself up from the table.

“Yes,” he says sadly, leading me away from the table.  “But I have something to tell you.”

Julian opens the door to his office and we duck inside.  It’s just as I left it, books scattered for answers.  Julian arranges and rearranges books and papers restlessly, more to occupy himself than anything.

“So…” he says hesitantly.  “Well, it worked… I met the Hanged Man.  He gave me the rest of my memories… I know the cure, and…  Listen, Sevrina, just stay calm and listen to me…”  He heaves a deep breath.  “I found out that…”

For a long moment, he struggles, unable to get the words out.

“That you knew me,” I whisper, “And that I died?”

He turns around, aghast, both his eyes wide.

“Wh…. How did..? I was psyching myself up to tell you, and you already knew?”

I shake my head.  “I didn’t know until today.”

He gapes at me, stunned.

“I saw you in the Hanged Man’s realm,” I explain.  “I couldn’t call out to you, I couldn’t reach you, but I heard everything.”

“Then… that means,” Julian stammers.  “Are you… alright?”

I take his hands.  “I am.  In a strange way, it makes sense.  It explains so much… I always knew something was strange about my missing memories… if I died, then maybe my old memories died with me.  I don’t think I can get them back…maybe that’s why the headaches are so debilitating when I try.”

Julian holds me against him for a moment and whispers desperate apologies to me in my ears.  After a short while, he pulls back from me and his mismatched eyes meet mine.

“I want to show you something,” he whispers.

He looks over at his desk, then presses an unseen button on its underside.  A hidden drawer pops out.  He plucks a sheaf of folded paper from inside, and offers it to me—I’d seen him tenderly caress this paper in a vision.  I unfold it, mindful of the delicate paper, and then I nearly drop it in shock. 

This handwriting….  It’s mine.

 

 

_My Beloved Ilya,_

_I will go my whole day through dreaming of your hands and your kisses.  Last night was the most incredible night of my life… Can you feel my joy?  We’re lovers, at last… How I’ve longed for you, and the reality of you is far more fulfilling than any dream.  I’m spinning, I feel light as air—oh, Ilyushenka, come to me and bring me back down to earth and kiss me…_

_My magic lessons will occupy my day today, so I won’t be able to see you until late tonight…. Come to my room tonight—I’ll be waiting for you, counting these agonizing hours until I can feel your touch again._

_Oh, my Ilya, I am aflame for you…._

_Your Sevrina_

 

“Oh Julian,” I breathe.  I look up at him, and he is smiling bittersweetly.

“I found this when I was here the last time,” he says softly, “I thought I was dreaming when I read it… Didn’t I tell you that I was sure we were together before?”

“Oh, Julian, I wish I could remember…”

He takes the note from my hands and folds it gently, putting it into his pocket to keep.

“Don’t be upset,” he whispers, taking me into his arms, “I’ll give you many, many more nights to remember, if you’ll still have me….”

“Of course I’ll still have you,” I whisper.  “Why wouldn’t I have you?”

He squeezes me tighter.  “Sevrina, I’m sorry… You needed me and I wasn’t there.  I failed you… what if something happens again?”

“You can’t save everyone,” I whisper, taking him by the shoulders.  “Think of the sheer amount of people taken by the plague.  Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise I was one of them.  It was out of your control.  But in matters of what _can_ be controlled, I trust you.  I don’t think there’s anyone in the world I could depend on more fiercely to be there for me.”

Julian takes me into his arms again.

“Yes… Yes of course I will…” he says softly, his hands mussing my hair, “I won’t fail you again, Sevrina.  I swear on my life…. I’ll always be there for you.”

He touches my cheek gently, almost reverently, and I cup his hand against my face.  But there’s a weight in my chest… an uncomfortable question that I can’t dislodge. He senses this.

“What is it, Sevrina?

“Something is bothering me,” I explain.  “If I really died, how am I alive now?”

“I wish I knew, Sevrina,” Julian says sincerely, “Bringing someone back to life is…well… I can’t say it’s impossible, considering what’s happened to me, but it’s not exactly common, is it?”

A memory flickers in the back of my mind… Something I heard once.

“Everything is possible, as long as you’re willing to pay the price.”

Julian looks at me with a questioning in his eyes.

“Sevrina?”

“Asra…. Asra told me that…. The earliest memory I have is of Asra’s face.  If anyone knows what happened, it’s him.”

“Let’s go find him,” Julian says, putting a supportive hand on my shoulder.  “I think it’s time he told us the truth… but I’ll need to get an eyepatch before we leave the palace—I don’t want anyone thinking I’m contagious.  I wonder if the Countess can get me a spare.”

Suddenly, Portia appears in the doorway, Malak on her shoulder.

“Ilya!” she says, overjoyed, and rushes in to embrace him.  Malak flutters over onto the writing desk and watches.

“Pasha,” he whispers with a happy laugh, “Pasha, it worked.”

She pulls back and punches his in the arm, hard.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t you _ever_ do anything that stupid again!” she shouts, her eyes brimming with tears.  “You are not alone in this world, do you get it now, you idiot!”

I can’t help but giggle.  She’s saying everything I haven’t yet.  Even Malak caws in solidarity.

Portia turns to me and sighs.  “Valdemar got away,” she whispers.  I couldn’t climb the stones in the wall up and after them—they skittered up like a spider and went out of a small hole in the stones.  I didn’t stand a chance in following.”

“What matters is you got them away from Julian,” I say.  “You were brilliant.”


	15. Temperance

It’s a relief to leave that dungeon behind us, hopefully for the last time.  I can hear Nadia’s voice in the hallway speaking to a servant as we come up into the library.

“Three more of my sisters are arriving today, including the crown Princess,” she says, “And I’d like to see that she has every comfort that she is accustomed to.  Will you see that the satin bedding is put in her quarters, and she likes to have candied almonds and goldberry cakes for breakfast—Send word to the kitchens to have those prepared.”

“Of course, Countess,” the servant says, bowing, then rushes away to carry out the errands.

Nadia turns around as the library doors fold open, and sees us.  Her eyes go wide at the sight of Julian, alive and well, and she smiles briefly before her face drops.

“Doctor, your eye!” she exclaims.

“Don’t worry, Nadia,” I say softly.  “It isn’t contagious.  There’s nothing to fear.”

“Yes, I seem to have lost the eyepatch somewhere along the way of getting back to the palace after the execution,” Julian explains.  “I wonder if you’d be able to dig up a spare one?”

Nadia smiles.  “Yes, I’m sure that can be arranged…  Oh, I’m so glad to see your plan worked… I would never have forgiven you for breaking Sevrina’s heart.”

She nears us and kisses each of us on the cheek in greeting, which appears to startle Julian.

“Oh, Sevrina, you look exhausted,” she says, putting her hands on either side of my face.  “I had hoped the three of you would receive my sisters with me this evening, but given what you’ve just been through, I think it would truly be better for you to have some rest. After all, the Masquerade is tomorrow, and I so want you to enjoy yourselves.”

She’s right… though it’s only late afternoon, I’m beginning to tremble with exhaustion.  I have been running on adrenaline since Julian was jailed.

“Yes, Nadia,” I say softly, “Forgive me for being unfit to meet your sisters tonight…. I must admit I’d like nothing better at the moment than to sleep.”

Nadia nods her head and smiles.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” she says.  “I trust sleeping in the same chamber won’t be an issue?”

Julian blushes and I shake my head.  “That is fine,” I say softly, not catching her innuendo right away.

Nadia’s eyes go to Julian with a look of amusement.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Julian says, putting his hands up defensively.  “I swear I will let her sleep.  Sevrina’s health and wellbeing are more important to me than anything.  Besides, I’m feeling tired, myself.  Who knew resurrection would be so exhausting?”

“Very good,” Nadia says with an impish smile.  “I’ll post two guards outside your door to see you aren’t disturbed.  Portia?”

Portia shoots to attention.  “Yes, Milady?”

“You look as if you could use a rest as well,” Nadia says in a low tone, brushing a red curl away from Portia’s brow with a loving hand. “Why don’t you turn in?  Go up to my chambers and sleep a while.  I’ll come and see to you personally after you’ve had time to rest.”

Portia blushes.  “Yes, Milady,” she whispers.  Nadia smiles warmly at her and shoos us off to our respective beds.

“Clarette!” I hear her call to a servant as we walk down the hallway, “I need two guards outside of Sevrina’s room now.  No one is to go in and disturb her….”

By the time we round the corner into the hallway where my room is, my legs are shaking with exhaustion underneath me.  I open the door with a trembling hand.  Although Julian is also exhausted and unsteady after this final use of his mark, he somehow summons the strength to scoop me into his arms and he carries me in as though I weigh no more than a doll, pressing it shut again behind us with his foot.

“Nearly there, my Little Star,” he whispers, “You’ll get to sleep before you know it.”

He crosses the room with me in his arms and sets me gently on the edge of the bed, and drops to his knees in front of me, removing my shoes and kissing my knees through my clothes while I unfasten my hip bag.  He then takes the bag and sets it aside on the floor by the small table under the window, and stands before me, surveying the room to make sure I have every possible comfort.

“Do you want night clothes?” He asks, spying my night dress on the ledge by the window, where my laundry is always returned after washing, “Or will you sleep in your skin?”

He waggles his eyebrow comically as he unfolds my night dress.

“Give me that,” I say with a soft laugh.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door.  Julian looks at me and then steps over to open it.  It’s Nadia, carrying a bundle of sumptuous wine-coloured satin.

“I wanted to bring you some night clothes,” she says with a soft smile.  “If you give me the things you’re wearing now, I’ll see to it that they’re laundered and fresh for the morning.”

Julian takes the bundle from her with an astonished look on his face.  I rise to meet them by the door.

“I couldn’t possibly send the laundry away with _you_ , Countess,” he says humbly.

Nadia shakes her head.  “I may be the Countess to the city,” she says, “But to the two of you, I am a friend first and foremost… Were it not for my being convinced that you were guilty, Doctor, you’d not have had to go through all of this anguish.”

“Nadia,” I say softly, shaking my head.  “Nobody is blaming you.”

She puts up a hand to quiet me.  “I know,” she says, “But let me do some little things to care for my friends after their ordeal, hmm?”

I bow my head down humbly.

“Thank you, Nadia,” I whisper.

“Yes, thank you, Countess,” Julian says.

“Doctor, if I might have just a moment with Sevrina before your rest?”

Julian nods and ducks aside, into the room, and starts fussing about with unmaking the bed.  Nadia leans close to me and hands me a second satin bundle.

“This nightgown,” Nadia whispers, “It’s high-backed.  I want you to be comfortable… Considering that the tension between you is so utterly palpable, I’m assuming that he’s not yet had you undressed, so this should cover your scars until you’re ready for him to see.”

I put my arms around her.  “Thank you, Nadia,” I say.  “This is a very thoughtful gesture.”

“Enjoy,” she says with a wink.  “I’ll wait just here for your laundry, and will have it left outside the door for you when you wake.”

I smile.  “Thank you, Nadia, that’s very kind of you.”

“Not to worry, my friend,” she says softly, leaning in to keep out of Julian’s earshot.  “I only hope you manage _some_ sleep…. Rest assured, I won’t pry for the finer details, but I do hope to hear tomorrow that you’ve had a very fulfilling night.”  She winks conspiratorially at me.  “Now, go and change and get me your clothes.”

I nod my head bashfully and duck behind a screen in my room to change.  Julian has already pulled on his satin trousers and dressing gown and is gathering his clothes into a messy pile, looking a little bewildered. When I emerge, wrapped up in delicious, cool satin, I take his clothes with mine and return to the door.  Nadia scoops them into her arms and smiles.

“There we are,” she says, noting the two guards turning the corner to take post outside of the room.  “This room is not to be approached by anyone other than myself or Portia until the guests feel fit to leave it, do you understand?”

“Yes, Countess,” the guards say in unison.  Satisfied, Nadia looks back to us as she takes hold of the doorknob.

“Goodnight Sevrina, Doctor,” she says with a smile.

“Goodnight Nadia,” I say.

“Goodnight, Countess.”

Nadia closes the door, smiling impishly.  Julian and I are alone again.

“What was that smirk about?” Julian asks.

“She thinks you’re not going to let me sleep,” I laugh softly.

“Is that so?  Ahem… Where were we?” Julian says, turning to me with a smile.  He scoops me up into his arms again, the both of us laughing softly and carries me to the bed, where he sets me down on the edge of the mattress.

“We really ought to sleep, Kitten,” he says softly, peppering my cheeks with kisses.  “We’re both exhausted.   I wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you deserve….”

I nod.  “I feel the same… For now, I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s get comfortable… Do you want the inside, or outside?” he asks softly, pulling the covers back further.

“Inside, I suppose,” I whisper.  Julian nods and discards his robe, standing only in his satin trousers and gestures for me to climb into bed. Once I scoot into my side, he cuddles up behind me, holding me like a spoon, pulling the covers up over our bodies. He nuzzles his face into my hair, just behind my ear, and curls his fingers with mine at my breast.

“I love you,” he whispers.  “More than I could ever express in words.”

I squeeze his hands and turn my head to receive kisses to my cheek.  Suddenly I’m overcome with emotion and begin to weep.

“Oh, tell me you’re really here and we’re safe,” I whisper.  “Tell me you’re really here, Julian, tell me I’m not dreaming…”

“Shh, Sevrina, I’m here,” he whispers, squeezing me tighter and nuzzling into my ear.  “I’m here and nothing will ever take me away from you again.”

“Promise me,” I whisper.

“Oh I swear it, Sevrina,” he breathes, placing little kisses at my hair and ear, “I’m here, I’m alive, and I will never, never leave you.   Hush now, my Little Sparrow, feel my hands in yours, hear my voice in your ear, I’m here.  I love you, Sevrina.”

“I love you, Julian,” I murmur as my limbs begin to tremor again.

“You’re shaking with fatigue, Love,” he says softly, “Let yourself sleep.  I will try and do the same, but even if I can’t rest, I swear I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Mmmhmm….” Is all I can muster.

In his arms, safe and secure, the two of us together, he whispers little reassurances of his presence and love until my fierce grip on his hands eases with my tiredness. I listen to him whisper softly little repetitions of _hush, my Little Mouse, I’m here, hush now and sleep, my Love_ … It’s easy to slip into sleep when I can feel his soft breath and his tiny kisses shifting my hair…

 

I awaken very late into the next day.  I could sleep beside him for a week after that ordeal, but I know we must find Asra, so I pull myself up to seated.  Julian has been awake for some time and is sitting by the window, quietly sketching in a small leather book.  He is dressed, and beside him is a bundle of my freshly laundered clothes. 

I stretch and rub my eyes groggily, and he looks up from his journal and smiles dreamily at me.

“Good afternoon, my Darling,” he says softly.  “How do you feel?”

I grumble and slump back over onto my pillow.  He laughs and rises from his seat to sit on the edge of the bed, bending himself down to brush my hair away from my face with tender fingers.

“Come, my Love, we have a magician to track down,” he says with a laugh as he places light, tickling kisses over my cheeks, making me laugh and squirm.  “Let’s get some answers… then we can leave the past in the past and concentrate on the marvellous future ahead…”

I press into him and wrap my arms around his neck.  He nuzzles into my cheek.

“Come now, my Little Fish,” He whispers, “If you don’t get up, how will I be able to tell you about how delighted I’ll be to take you back to bed?”

I laugh softly and look up into his face. 

“You make a compelling argument,” I say softly.  “You win.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead before standing up and returning to his seat at the window.

“The Countess will open the doors for the Masquerade soon,” Julian says as I pull myself out of bed.  He hands me my freshly laundered clothes and says, “We should try to find Asra so we have time to settle ourselves before the party.”

“Yes,” I agree, ducking behind a screen to change into my clothes, as a new thought floods me:  How will I tell Julian about the scars?

“You tease,” he sighs with a laugh as I discard the night dress, “Oh, I can see your flawless silhouette and yet I can see none of you…”

I peek from around the screen and wink at him.  He laughs and I draw back again and begin to pull on my clothes.

“When we _do_ come back to bed,” he says softly, “I sincerely hope you’ll allow me to awe at the sight of you… Perhaps if I’m good, you’ll let me play audience to the act you alluded to in the Hanged Man’s realm?”

“You know, Nadia says the energy between us is utterly _palpable_ ,” I say with a laugh as I smooth my clothes and round the side of the screen.  “And beyond that, you tell me you like a little pain, so perhaps this is one little torture I’m inflicting for your long-term pleasure?”

Julian smiles wickedly and smooths his hand over his hair.

“Oh, yes,” he exhales, rising to meet me, “I am your willing slave, my Darling—I will happily endure this ever-deepening ache for you as long as you want me to…”  He caresses my cheek and draws nearer.  “Only, mercy, please, allow me to kiss you…”

I close the space between us and he kisses me deeply, sweetly, and when we part, he sighs as he looks down to meet my gaze.  I brush his hair away from his mismatched eyes and smile.

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper.

“And I am consumed by love for you,” he replies.

We steal another indulgent embrace, and when we part, he clears his throat and sighs.

“I would spend the rest of my life doing nothing but kiss you,” he says, “But I want you to have your answers.”

I nod.  “Yes.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, “I’m a very attentive lover—I won’t forget where we’ve left off.”

I smile and he squeezes my fingers.

“Let’s find Asra,” I say.

We leave the room and I thank the guards who are still standing at the doors.  They nod at me ever so slightly, and I take Julian’s hand in mine, interlacing our fingers.

I steel myself for the search—I have no idea where Asra is.  Then suddenly, he rounds the corner and nearly collides with me.  He is dressed in a decorative gown of white and gold, the iridescent skirts flowing all the way to the floor.  Faust sits happily across his shoulders, and eyes Julian with interest.  Julian steps to my other side to avoid her.

“Sevrina!”  Asra says in shock, “Ilya!  You made it back!”

“Asra—we were just about to come looking for you!” Julian says with surprise.

“You were looking for me?” he retorts, “I was looking for you!  We…. We have a problem.”

Julian and I exchange a look.  I can hear the sound of music and laughter, but it’s distant, muffled.  Nobody is nearby.  It seems we’re in a wing that’s been closed off from the Masquerade—the Countess has opened the doors.

“Why were you looking for me?” Asra asks.

“I have some questions for you,” I explain. “I… I just found out that I died of the plague three years ago.”

Asra’s eyes go wide in horror, before he averts his gaze.  His mouth twists with… guilt? Regret?

“You knew, didn’t you?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says softly, “I did… Are you alright?  You’re not… it’s not hurting you, Sister?  I’ve tried to tell you the truth before, but I never could… Your headaches….”

It used to be debilitating agony when I talked of any of my past memories, but now my head is clear.  There’s no pain.

“It doesn’t hurt.  I just want to know—How did I come back?  Do you know?”

“Yes,” Asra admits.  “Well, sort of… I know I performed some kind of ritual during the last Masquerade.  But I can’t say exactly what happened—I wish I could.”

I sigh.  “Asra, thank you… Whatever you did to bring me back couldn’t have been easy.”

“It was worth it to give you the second chance,” Asra says softly before shooting a brief, bitter look at Julian.

“Well, you know what they say,” Julian says, determined to lift the weight of the moment, “You only live twice!”

He nudges me, smiling hopefully.  I can feel the sombre mood lighten.

Asra blinks exaggeratedly, and his eye twinkles with mischievous humour.

“Do my ears deceive me?”  He asks me teasingly, “Or do I hear the voice of a dead man?

“I’m not dead, thank you very much,” Julian asserts.

“Not for lack of trying,” Asra laughs.  “Did you get your cure?”

“Oh yes,” Julian smiles.  “I’ve chatted with the Hanged Man and lived to tell the tale.  Please hold your applause.”

“And what did he say?”

Julian spreads his hands, heaving a sigh. 

“Lucio’s existence is directly related to the plague,” he explains, “Kill him for good, and the plague goes away for good.  And since the plague is coming back…”

“Lucio’s coming back, too,” Asra sighs.  He doesn’t sound surprised at all.

“Asra, is this related to the problem you mentioned?” I ask.

Asra gives me a worried look.  “Yes.  I encountered Lucio’s ghost in the forest…. But something was wrong.  He didn’t look human…. He looked like a white goat, standing upright.”

“Like that painting in the dining room?” Julian asks.

The goat with the ruby red eyes… I feel a prickle of discomfort just remembering it.

“Like that, but with more mange,” Asra says, “I followed him here to the palace before I lost the trail.  I wanted to ask you to keep an eye out for him at the Masquerade.”

“Do you think he’ll make trouble?” I ask.

“Maybe,” Asra shrugs, “Then again, he may be too vain to show himself in such a state.”

“Ghost hunting, then,” Julian says with a nod.  “That sounds like a job for us, eh, Sevrina?”

“Before you join the party, you’ll need masks,” Asra explains, “Unless you want comments about that eye of yours—it’s not contagious, is it?”

“The only think contagious about me is my sense of humour,” Julian says with a grin.

Asra laughs, “I don’t know which is scarier!”

Asra reaches into his bag and produces two masks.  He hands them to us and tells us to put them on before we go to the party.

I turn my mask over in my hands, admiring Asra’s artwork.  It’s intricately carved and delicately painted with a motif of turtle doves and red roses.  Julian’s mask is beaked, like the others I’ve seen him wear, but Asra’s work is much finer.

“You’ll need costumes, too,” he says, “There are stalls out front.  I’ll find Nadia and let her know what’s going on.  Have you seen her since you… resurrected?  She’d been pacing, wondering what she could do for Sevrina if it all went south.”

“Yes, we’ve seen her,” I say.  “She knows everything is alright.”

“If you see Pasha, er… Portia,” Julian says, “Tell her about the ghost.  She will be able to help.”

“I will,” Asra says with a smile.  “You two be careful.  And don’t forget to enjoy the party.  Gods know you deserve it.”

And with that, Julian and I are alone again.  Julian clears his throat.

“Ah.  Allow me,” he says, and takes my mask into his hands.  He deftly fastens it for me with a smile, his long fingers along my jaw, turning my head this way and that.

“Elegant,” he whispers, “Mysterious…. Breathtaking… and the mask isn’t half bad, either.”  He winks rakishly at me, taking full advantage of having both eyes visible.  I can’t resist a smile, he fills me with such exceptional joy.

“Then let me return the favour,” I whisper flirtatiously.

Chuckling, he ducks his head so I can slip his mask over his face. I tweak the mask’s beak, adjusting its position until the red sclera of his right eye is hidden.  If I didn’t know what I was looking for, I wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

“Perfect,” he says with satisfaction. “Thank you, my dear.  Shall we head to the costume stalls?”

 

The path to the palace is lined with stalls, attentive vendors and discerning partygoers.  It’s so crowded that, for a moment, I falter.  Will anyone recognise him?

Within moments, we’re surrounded, and Julian wraps a protective arm around my shoulders, but no one gives us more than a courtesy glance.  Bit by bit, I start to relax.  It looks like we’re safe.

Applause from the south end of the bridge draws my attentions.  Six swans fly in glittering arcs over a small pond.  Two handlers with a cart full of bread are coaxing the birds through a series of tricks.  Suddenly, my sightline is broken by a costume. Julian grins as he dangles it in front of me.

“What do you think?”  He asks with a laugh, “It’s my size.”

It does seem to be in his size, but it’s also incredibly, astonishingly, _hideously_ gaudy.  Most of it is a searing bright orange, but it also has purple panels and bright green trim.  A half a dozen clashing patterns and haphazardly placed gold chains “complete” the look.

I find myself at a loss for words.  Julian bursts into a laugh.

“The look on your face!” he cackles, “I’d only want to wear this monstrosity it to annoy people, anyway.  How about this one?”

He selects another costume.  He holds it up to himself. Thankfully it is a much more tasteful piece, but Julian decides against it in the end, muttering, “Too much red.”

He hems and haws as he searches the racks of costumes, and finally sees one that delights him.

“Ah, now we’re talking,” he says, and holds it up in front of himself.  Dark cloth and darker feathers, a flush of red at the throat… It could almost have been made for him, and it complements the mask perfectly.

“And wait,” he says with a smile, “What’s this?  Lovely… do you think it would fit you?”

He holds up this costume for my inspection.  Cascades of beige and black lace in alternating tiers and a spray of red roses embroidered across the right bodice and shoulder.  It’s a perfect match for my mask and it looks like it will fit, but moreover, it suits me.  His attentive gesture makes me smile.  Behind us, an attendant clears her throat.

“Are you ready to try on costumes?  This way.”

She leads us to a row of changing tents.

“This tent is free,” she says, gesturing that we should change together, and pay afterward.

We get into the changing tent together and I immediately note there is no changing screen…I start to panic inside about my scars.  The attendant unfastens the curtain and it falls shut.

“When you finish, come out and let me know if you want to purchase,” she calls in, and then we’re alone.

Mercifully, I can see my dress comes in two parts, the blessing being the under slip, which looks high in the back.  Julian unfastens his mask and begins removing his jacket and boots.  I don’t move to undress.  I don’t want him to see my scars.

“I’d forgotten what fun the Masquerade was,” he says with unbridled excitement as he removes his shirt.

I hesitate, my fingers lingering at the hem of my top.  Julian looks up.

“Are you alright?”

I smile weakly.  “I’m… a bit shy.  Would you turn your back to me until I get the under slip on?”

Julian smiles.  “Of course, my Love.”  He stands and obliges my request, facing the corner of the tent.  “I admit I’d thought this would be my opportunity to steal just a peek at your lovely curves, but that can wait until we have more privacy, can’t it?  Besides, I wouldn’t want us to become so overwhelmed with lust that you’d ravage me in this tent, just a curtain away from a roaring crowd…  No one would watch the synchronized swan flock, I’ve a feeling the Countess would find that kind of behaviour in such a public event just a little embarrassing.”

I exhale, with relief, and laugh at his teasing.

“Thank you, Julian,” I whisper.  “I’ll tell you when to turn around.”

I pull off my tunic top and then my trousers and slide the slip over my head.  I’m relieved it has a high back, and I feel assured my scars should be mostly covered…

“Thank you, Julian, you can turn now.”

He turns around slowly and sees me in the champagne coloured slip, and smiles.

“You’re dazzling,” he says.  I flush.  I feel the need to change the subject while I’m so mindful of my scars.

“Tell me what it will be like?” I ask.

“The Masquerade, or when I finally get to make love to you?”

I smile in spite of myself.  “I had meant the Masquerade, but save those other whispers for later,” I say mischievously, “I will want to know that, too.”

Julian winks at me, and continues to dress.

“I can’t wait to see what you think of it all, Sevrina,” he says as I pull the dress overlay over my head and tug it gently down to my hips, smoothing the skirts.  “Every time is different, though there are a few regular favourites.”

I step over to him and help button his shirt.  He kisses my temple, but doesn’t stop talking.

“One year there was a scale model of the palace made entirely of sweets,” he says, “It was delicious, of course, the food is always incredible.  Turn around a moment, Sevrina, I’ll get those buttons at your back.”

He sweeps my hair aside and fastens the five delicate buttons from my neckline, and he keeps talking.  If he sees any scarring, he doesn’t say so, so I feel confident it is well hidden.  He lets his long fingers slide delicately down my back when he finishes and lets them linger at my waist.  I love to feel his hands. I find myself smiling.  It’s difficult to dwell in the past when I am so ready to begin our future.

“The bubble room is a classic,” Julian continues, “If the palace ever retired it, there’d be an outcry.

He turns me back around and steals a kiss, his smile warm against my lips.

Julian pulls on the rest of his costume, talking more about a topiary zoo, a mirror hallway, upside-down entertainers and more.  I run my hands over his shoulders, smoothing away a few stray wrinkles and adjusting a little bunching in his sleeves.  He holds his hands out so that I can button his shirt cuffs, the polished buttons gleaming in the candlelight.  The last thing to do is replace his mask, and afterward I look at him a moment, adoring how elegant he is.  With everything in place, he ushers us out of the tent. He does a slow turn, showing off every angle of the costume, and bows gallantly to me.

“What do you think?  Am I dashing? Stylish? Handsome?”

I smile.  “You are all of this and more.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” he says, twirling me and admiring me in return.  “Who is this mysterious, ravishing vision?  Why, she might just steal my heart…”

The attendant returns to us once she notices we’ve left the tent.

“We’ll take both of these costumes, please,” Julian says, reaching for his purse. 

The attendant shakes her head.  “You’re Sevrina?  The Countess sent word your costumes are courtesy of the palace, and your clothes will be waiting in your chamber after the party.”

She gives us a curious look, clearly wondering who exactly we are.  Julian grins mischievously at me.

“Thank you,” I say, and slip her a few coins as a tip, anyway.

“Enjoy the Masquerade,” she says with a smile.

Julian looks to me and grins excitedly, holding out his arm for me to take.  “Shall we?”

 

I hardly recognize the palace halls.  They’ve been completely transformed for the Masquerade.  Everything feels different, as if I’m seeing it for the first time.  We’re surrounded by decorations, music, uniformed attendants, and what feels like every person in Vesuvia, all in elaborate costume and masks.

I notice quite quickly that there is no shortage of people dressed as white goats.  Julian must notice the same.

“We need to keep an eye out for a ghost goat in all of this?” He mutters, “Easier said than done.  For just you and I to track him down in the middle of all of this, it is nearly impossible… But I have some friends who might be here, and if they are, they might know something.  But until we find a lead, I don’t see any harm in enjoying the party, too… Let’s start in the ballroom?  It’s always spectacular, and it’s the biggest room—everyone goes through at some point.”

The ballroom is already full of guests, all dancing and chatting.  Julian and I have barely taken two steps into the room when someone calls out to us.

“Ilya, is that really you?” a voice says.  It is hushed, just loud enough for us to hear.  It is coming from a person in a deer mask, peering at us around a column.  Julian starts in surprise, and then a broad grin spreads over his face.

“Peyton, my friend, I have no idea who this Ilya is,” he laughs.

“You rascal,” the man in the deer mask says, “You gave me and the family a real scare!  I should have known you’d find some way to get out of it… Why are you here?  Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Not if you don’t tell anyone,” Julian says laughingly.  “Say… while you’re here, have you seen anything strange?  I’ve heard some rumours about a ghost.”

“Funny you should mention it,” the man says, “I didn’t see anything, but I did hear something… something unnatural.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a white goat disappearing up the stairs—was it a costumed guest?  Or something else?  I take a step towards the stairs, intent on finding out.

“Sevrina, did you hear what he said?” Julian asks.

I stop, turning back to them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it.”

“Well, I was trying to find the tiny sandwiches room, when I heard two voices.  The hallway was empty, but I could hear them clear as day.  Something about a deal and a thief.

I exchange looks with Julian.  Two voices?

“Peyton!”

A rabbit-masked reveller rushes up to us.  “You’ll never believe what I just saw!  There was a ghost in the circus room!”

A jolt of adrenaline runs through me, and beside me, Julian leans forward eagerly.

“A ghost?  Where’s the circus room?”

The rabbit-faced man points our direction.  “Out that door, turn right, then three doors down.  You can’t miss it.  Wait—What are you doing here?  Aren’t you…?”

“I’ll explain later!  It’s good to see you both again—enjoy the party!”

Julian takes my hand, and we’re off like a shot until we arrive at a set of massive double doors, draped with patterned fabric.

“Here we are,” Julian says, parting the curtain for me, “After you.”

Inside, gauzy fabric is draped from the ceiling and over the walls.  Floating lanterns cast a hazy glow over the room, trailing streamers as they float above the crowd.  The scent of caramelizing sugar and fried treats wafts in the air.  Three circular stages dominate the room.

“I don’t see a ghost,” Julian says.

“I don’t feel anything, either,” I reply.

An attendant steps up onto the centre stage and calls out to the crowd.

“Everyone please take your places! The show is about to begin!”

Behind us, other attendants swing the doors shut, and the floating lanterns dim.

“Good timing,” Julian says, leaning over to me and putting an arm around my shoulders.  “Which act takes your fancy?”

Assistants wheel props onto the stages, and costumed performers take their positions.

To the left, performers dressed in red and gold start setting fire to ropes and batons.  In the center, attendants wheel in a giant, elevated birdcage with acrobats perched inside, and to the right, a trio of magicians lift their arms, raising a sphere of water into the air.

“Let’s see what the birdcage is all about,” I suggest.

“It’s all very elaborate, isn’t it?” Julian says with a chuckle, “Do you think I could join the flock?”

I smile and tweak the end of his beak.

“Dressed like that, you’d fit right in.”

We join the crowd around the central stage, everyone craning their necks for a good view.  The acrobats’ costumes are formfitting, decorated with feathers in a rainbow of colours.  A gong chimes, and all at once, the acrobats burst into motion, leaping from their bars and perches.  As they do, they unfurl trapezes and lengths of shimmering silk behind them.  They fly through the air on trapeze, and spiral through the silks, a riot of colour and movement.  With a final flourish, they land on their perches, and toss party favours out to the cheering crowd.

Julian snatches one of the glittering parcels out of the air, and hands it to me.

“One for the most beautiful woman in the palace,” he says.  He stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders as I gingerly unwrap it, peeling back layers of delicate paper.  At the very centre is a translucent sphere with tiny flower petals suspended within.

“What is it?” I ask, still studying our tiny prize.  Julian moves to my side for a better look.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, turning it in his fingers, “Aha! Look at it from this angle.”

He holds it up and leans over my shoulder so we can both see it.  As he turns it, the delicate petals move together into the shape of a bird mid-flight.

“Oh, how lovely,” I breathe, and look up to meet his gaze happily, and kiss the end of the mask’s beak.

As the performers take their final bows, the lights grow brighter and attendants swing the doors open.  

“Let’s try another room,” Julian suggests.  “Surely someone has seen something.”

We poke our heads into one room after another, looking for signs of trouble.  Julian lingers at one open door, peering inside with obvious interest.  The room is full of low tables, with masked revellers crowded around each one.  They seem to be playing some kind of card game, but no money changes hands.  Instead, they’re wagering stories, secrets and rumours.

Julian’s mouth turns up into an impish smile.

“This looks like a good time, doesn’t it?  Maybe we can win some information in the game—I do have an excellent poker face.”

I smile and nod.  “It’s worth a try—maybe someone has seen something.”

Julian ushers me in to the room ahead of him, and we approach a table with a few empty seats.

“Want to join me, Sevrina?” Julian asks.

“I’d rather watch,” I say, “The only cards I’m any good with tell fortunes.”

“Then prepare to be impressed, my Little Turtle Dove.  Dealer—Room for one more?”

“I stand behind him with my hands on his shoulders as he takes a seat and joins the game.

Within minutes, he’s struck up an easy conversation with other players. He plays well enough to keep up with the game, but he winks at me when they’re not watching.  He’s holding back, biding his time.

“Well, this round,” a player with a wolf mask begins, “I’ve got a scary tale… A ghost sighting in the Count’s old wing.”

Julian glances briefly at me, raising an eyebrow, and then bets big.  He blames his win on beginner’s luck, and presses for the story.

“Now, what’s this about a ghost?”

The man in the wolf mask spreads his hands and begins the tale. 

“I was walking by the staircase to the Count’s old wing earlier, when I got the strangest feeling, like I was being watched.  I looked up the stairs and at the top, I saw a pair of red eyes floating in the dark.”

“Don’t be silly,” another player in leafy mask scoffs, “You probably saw the Count’s old sighthounds.”

“Floating eight feet from the ground?” the wolf asks

“Sounds to me you’d had too much to drink.”

“Well,” the wolf says, “If you’ve got something better, put that on the table.”

“Suit yourself,” the green man says, “ _I’ve_ got a secret form the last Masquerade.”

Julian glances at me and then back down to his cards.  He looks deceptively casual, resting an elbow on the table and keeping up the conversation, but he’s playing to win.  This round is much, much closer, and I feel myself leaning forward and holding my breath—but with a daring wager, Julian manages to win again.

“Two in a row?” He says, flawlessly maintaining the guise of a flabbergasted beginner, “What are the odds…  Come on, then, what’s this secret?”

“Alright, fair’s fair,” laughs the green man, “During the last Masquerade, there was a secret dinner in a hidden room.  It was invite-only.  Very clandestine, just for the Count and his special guests, and I hear the guests got a once-in-a-lifetime offer.”

The green man trails off and he wolf eggs him on impatiently.

“You can’t leave it at that—what was the offer?”

“I wasn’t invited,” the green man says, “How should I know?”

The players at the table start to bicker and Julian clears his throat, and rises.

“That was fun, but I should probably move on before my luck leaves me,” he says, and bids the other players good evening.  He takes my hand and we weave between the game tables and back into the hallway.

“You must be good luck for me, Sevrina,” he says flirtatiously.  “That went well in there.”

I laugh.  “Luck has nothing to do with it if you are as cunning and charming as you,” I say, “I was just an accessory.”

The hallway is empty so he lifts his mask and kisses me before resuming his disguise and we continue walking.  We stop in front of a door painted with swirls of rainbow colours.

“Wait,” Julian says with a smile, “I remember this room—let’s go it, you won’t regret it.”

He opens the door for me and we are welcomed by attendants.  The room’s centrepiece is a long banquet table, groaning under the weight of a feast.  Smaller tables surround it, with a gap on the far side of the room for a small stage and a dance floor.

“Oh, look at that,” he sighs happily, “It’s even more vibrant than I remember.”

The banquet table is artfully piled with food sorted by colour, with red at one end and purple at the other.  Fruits and vegetables, baked goods, candies, roasted meats, jams, jellies and sauces of every variety.  My mouth begins to water just looking at it all.  People sit at the smaller tables, chatting, eating and occasionally returning to the table for seconds.  At the far end of the table, I spot Procurator Volta’s diminutive form.  She gathers an armful of tiny, orange cakes and shovels them into her mouth, taking no notice of us or anything else around her.

It’s a beautiful, extravagant spread of food, and I suddenly realize how hungry I am.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Julian.

“Famished,” he agrees.

“Thank Gods, I’m starving…How long have we been here?”

“I’m not sure—it’s difficult to keep track of the time in such a party, and it’s easy to work up an appetite… Let’s eat something.  It wouldn’t be any good if we wear ourselves out too early.”

Despite his light hearted tone, there’s genuine care in his gaze.

I glance back at the table and the see the Procurator has shifted down to the green food and is devouring handfuls of vegetables.  I don’t particularly fancy the idea of getting between her and food…

By silent consensus, Julian and I approach the other side of the table and start to put food onto plates.  Once we have what we want, Julian looks around and spots an empty table.

He pulls a chair out for me, and we sit around a table for two.  Julian groans in pleasure as he tastes the lobster, and I laugh in my delight of him being so happy…

“I’ve never had a bad meal at the palace,” I say with a smile, “But this one is going to be difficult to top.”

We trade tastes of food from one another’s plates and feed each other sugared nuts, figs and sweet cherries.  Julian sucks the sugar from my fingertips and scoots his chair nearer to mine so that he can nuzzle into my hair.

“What else can that mouth do?” I whisper, igniting a soft, throaty laugh deep in his throat.

“Oh, you’ll find out, I assure you,” he chuckles lowly.

I turn my head and kiss him, and we hear music suddenly begin. A band has begun to play on the stage, and the lights dim.  Other guests begin to rise and move to the dance floor in pairs or groups and Julian asks if I’d like to do the same.

“I don’t know how to dance very well,” I say sheepishly, “I’d embarrass you.”

“Nonsense,” he says with an air of comical overconfidence.  “Besides, I’m an excellent dancer.  I wouldn’t think of depriving you the pleasure.”

I’m smiling but feeling shy.

“Come to think of it,” he adds, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, “I wouldn’t think of depriving you of _any_ pleasure…”

“Julian,” I sigh, “I will be sure to remind you of that when we find a moment truly to ourselves.”

He chuckles and turns his head to kiss me without the mask impeding.

“I could teach you to waltz,” he says, “It’s very easy, and I will lead.  Besides that, what have you to fear of embarrassment in a place where we are all wearing masks?”

I smile at him.   “Alright, provided you don’t tease me.”

He stands and unbuttons his coat, then offers me his hand.  “I can promise I won’t tease you about your dancing,” he mutters softly, “But my beautiful, Sevrina, I most definitely _will_ tease you…”

His brazen innuendo makes me laugh, and I flush a little at the thought.

“May I have this dance?” he asks sweetly.  I take his hand, smiling, and we step onto the dance floor together.  He guides us effortlessly between the other couples, finding a small corner of unoccupied space to teach me the steps.  He places my hand on his shoulder, and rests a hand on my waist.  We clasp our other hands, and he tells me to follow him.

“This is the open position, so you can watch your feet,” he says.  “Follow me, now.  It goes, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” He shows me the steps at half the speed of the music.  It doesn’t take long for me to get it, and I look up at him in surprise.

“Your feet haven’t lost the memory,” he says with a smile, then draws me flush with him into the closed position, putting his hand on the small of my back.

“What do you mean?” I ask as we dance.

“I taught you how to dance before,” he says softly.  “I remember it being trickier the first time—you haven’t stepped on my toes yet.”

I laugh and close my eyes for a moment, willing the memory to return, but it doesn’t.

“Julian, I wish I could remember,” I whisper.  “Tell me more.”

“You didn’t step on my feet too much, when I taught you to waltz,” He laughs, “It was the tango, some time later… Dance lessons practically became a form of foreplay for us.  You’d step on my toes and I teased you until you’d rub my feet, then your hands would wander up my legs and over the rest of me…” he says softly, trailing off.  “You loved me so much, Sevrina, even I couldn’t deny it.”

“I still do,” I whisper, “I love you more every moment.”

Julian looks deeply into my eyes.

“I will make all of this up to you,” he whispers, “And I will give you all the happiness you’ve ever dreamed of.”

I quiet him by kissing his cheek.  We dance close, contented smiles on our lips, and after a quiet moment, he speaks again.

“Oh my Darling Sevrina…. In this moment, dancing with you like in the past… I know I made the right choice….”

“What choice?” I ask, taken a bit by surprise.

“Back in the Hanged Man’s realm,” Julian says.  His voice is low, for my ears only.  “Sevrina, I hope you know how much you mean to me, how important you are….we both know I’ve made mistakes… a lot of mistakes.  But even knowing what I’ve done, you still extended your hand to me.  You offered me a way forward.”

He leans in close to me, our foreheads are almost touching.

“I want to do better… be better.  For you.  For us.  For others… I want to make a difference for the people here.  I want a home with you, a life here….We can take holidays and travel, but I want to be here with you, helping everyone I can.  Mark or no mark, I want to help people… to give even a fraction of the kindness you’ve shown me back to the world….”

He whispers these last words almost against my lips.  I’m about to lean forward into his kiss when he suddenly pulls back and twirls me.  When he pulls me back against his body, he leans back, pulling me over him so we’re touching from ankle to chest. I gasp and he laughs.

“I thought you wanted a kiss,” I say.

“I told you I would tease you,” he replies with an impish grin.

We kiss now, and he lets me back to my feet on the floor, and we step back into the dance.

“Were you tempted to stay with the Hanged Man?” I ask softly.  “I know he could have offered you endless knowledge.”

Julian brushes a stray wisp of hair from my face and sighs.

“He made a tempting offer, I admit,” he says, “But in the end, I want to see tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that… I want to be here with you.  That’s where I belong.”

Warmth floods through me, a rush of affection making me feel weightless.  The song ends and Julian bows gallantly, bringing my fingers to his lips.  Around us, other Masquerade guests applaud, and I can hear envious sighs and whispers.  Oblivious to our audience, he looks up at me, smiling.

The band strikes up another song, one set at a more energetic pace than the last.

“Follow me again,” he says with a broad grin, “Let’s see if your little feet remember this one.”

The steps are faster, sharper.  It doesn’t take long for me to fall into step with him. The tension between us is building.  Julian guides us and makes an effortless step up onto a chair beside a vacant table, then his next step glides us up onto the table, a spin and he steps back down onto a second chair, bracing my weight, floating me down to the floor again effortlessly. He wasn’t joking when he said he was an excellent dancer—other partygoers are applauding and whistling.  I can feel his weight shift before each step, and I follow, flowing with his lead.  He leads me into a spin and hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing.  The look of unreserved joy on his face makes me feel light, and then the atmosphere of the party is interrupted by an otherworldly scream.

_“…my party!  Mine!”_

The voice stops me cold.

Something is crouched at the end of the banquet table.  A chill goes skittering down my spine.

“ _If I can’t have any of this, none of you can!_ ”

With a swipe, it hooks claws into the tablecloth and pulls hard.  Food and plates go flying.  Guests scream and duck for cover.  Julian pulls me into his arms protectively.  Procurator Volta screams at the sight of the ruined food, diving for the feast which is now scattered on the ground.  Behind her, the figure drops the tablecloth and flees through the door with a thin, angry wail.

“Sevrina, did that look like….”

“A goat?”

“We can’t let it get away!”

Julian buttons up his coat and we give chase.

From the veranda, I can see that the hedge maze has been transformed for the Masquerade.  I catch a flicker of white just inside the entrance.

“In there!” I say, and point to the maze.

We bolt after it together, running headlong between the hedges and ducking under decorations.  I can see the unpleasant, vicious energy, not far ahead, but the twists and turns of the maze are in my way and I can’t catch up.   The energy fades until I lose the thread entirely.  Frustration wells into my chest and I slow to a walk.

“The trail’s gone cold,” I say flatly.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Julian whispers.  “Lucio?”

“I think so,” I whisper.

“Ha.  So he threw a tantrum then hid to avoid the fallout?  Why am I not surprised?” he looks over to me and sees me heave a sigh of frustration.

“The night is young,” he says warmly. “If I know Lucio, we’ll have another chance.  Let’s find a way out.”

Easier said than done… I wasn’t paying attention to our path, and by the look on Julian’s face, neither was he.  We wander through the maze for several minutes but I can’t tell if we are any closer to an exit.  When we finally emerge to a clearing, I smell the peonies and recognise the fountain, but not the giant tree.  And it’s not just any tree.  Its branches bear dozens of kinds of flowers and fruits, and overwhelming riot of colour and texture.  Julian is gazing at it in wonder, and it gives me pause. 

Near the tree’s trunk, I spot another Masquerade guest looking up at the heavily laden branches.  They are wearing an elephant mask.  Julian stops dead in his tracks.

“Is that…. Doctor Satrinava?”

Satrinava… could that be one of Nadia’s sisters?

“Who--?”

The figure turns around, peering closely at us.

“Gods, Ilya, is that you?”

Julian starts to laugh.  “In the flesh!”

The two laugh and embrace like old friends.  I stand back and smile.

“I can’t believe you recognized me with this thing on!” they call out, stepping back enough to pull off the mask and adjust their scarf.  “I have to say—you’re looking very healthy for a dead man, aren’t you?”

Julian suddenly looks embarrassed.  “You… you don’t sound surprised,” he mutters.

Doctor Satrinava shakes their head, laughing.  “Dia filled me in.  I hope you’ve met your risk-taking quota for the century?”

Julian laughs.  “Believe it or not, I hope so, too.”

Doctor Satrinava flits their eyes over to me and smiles warmly.

“Ah, Doctor Satrinava, this is Sevrina, my… my..,,” Julian stammers, suddenly unsure what terminology to use to introduce me.

“Yes, yours, I understand,” they laugh, extending their lovely, hennaed hand.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And Sevrina,” Julian says, “This is Doctor Satrinava.”

“Call me Nazali,” they say as I shake their hand.  “You should, too, Ilya.  Heaven sakes.”

“I could never,” he says dramatically.  “You taught me everything I know about medicine.”

“I don’t recall teaching the art of resurrection,” they laugh.

“Well it’s been a few years,” he shrugs, “I’ve picked up a few tricks.”

“Yes, well, I hope you’ve grown up some since then,” Nazali laughs, “The stories I could tell you, Sevrina—the plague may be over, but Ilya’s antics are eternal!”

A voice interrupts us. 

“ _The plague?  Over?  I wouldn’t count on that_.”

Julian goes tense and immediately tries to shuffle me protectively behind him.

I know that voice.

Quaestor Valdemar enters the clearing, their macabre horse skull mask pale in the gloom.

“What a shame,” Valdemar says in that unsettlingly pleasant tone, “Had I found you anywhere else, in any other company… But there’s time for that, yet—I can be patient.  I don’t have to wait much longer, after all.”

“What are you talking about?” Julian says sternly.

“I’m merely looking forward to the return,” Valdemar says melodically.  “It won’t be long, now.  Perhaps the next plague will set a new mortality record.  I certainly hope it does.  I wonder how long you’ll survive this time, Doctor 069?”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Nazali steps in, “Take your ill omens elsewhere.”

Julian puts out a hand to Nazali.

“Doctor Satrinava, don’t—“

“Doctor Satrinava?” Valdemar asks sweetly.  “How fortuitous… Perhaps… Yes, perhaps we can come to an agreement.  Doctor, I am Quaestor Valdemar.  I led research during the Red Plague.  I have many questions about your initial discovery of the plague—the symptoms, the treatments… Perhaps we might converse together?”

Julian bristles, but before he can say anything, Nazali steps forward.

“Quaestor Valdemar, is it?  Very well, I’ll meet you on the veranda for this discussion.”

“I look forward to it,” Valdemar says.

Without breaking eye contact Valdemar walks backwards, back into the hedge maze.

“Doctor Satrinava, is that really alright?” Julian asks with concern.  “Valdemar is… they’re….”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Nazali says.  “I’m more worried about you two.”

Julian looks surprised.  “Us?  Oh, don’t worry about us.”

“Then I’ll try not to,” they laugh.  “Take care, Ilya.  I’ll see you soon.”

Doctor Satrinava ducks their head to put her mask back on, then follows Valdemar into the maze.

“Well, then, we should probably follow them, shouldn’t we?” Julian asks.

I open my mouth to answer and a crash from within the maze makes us both jump.  In the same instant, I feel a sudden tug, like a hook in my breastbone.  It’s the same sour, unpleasant energy from the rainbow room, and beyond it, an ominous, inky darkness.

“Sevrina, what’s wrong?” Julian asks in alarm.

“I think I’ve just picked up the trail,” I whisper.  “Come on!”

“Right behind you,” he says.

I follow the tug.  Every step I take, the pull gets stronger and stronger.  It’s taking us to the centre of the maze.  Before I know it, I’m running. Branches whip past me.  Behind me, Julian keeps pace, following me through every dizzying twist and turn.  I whip around the last corner and skid to a halt.  Julian nearly careens into me but he catches himself with a hand on my shoulder.

I barely notice, because there, in the centre of the clearing is the ghost we’ve been hunting.


	16. The Devil

Julian’s hand tenses on my shoulder.  For a moment, all around us is suffocating silence.  This goat ghost of Count Lucio turns his head to us, red eyes glowing like hot coals, and the corners of his mouth curl up as Julian steps protectively in front of me.

“Well, if it isn’t Doctor Jules,” He bleats, “Here to welcome me to the party?”

Julian’s mouth turns down.  His mask can’t hide his contempt, his loathing.

“Do you even know what will happen if you come back?” Julian asks, “The plague will come with you!”

The ghost looks at him with disdain.  “It’s always about that stupid plague with you.  Leeches this and bile that.  You’re at a party and you’re still thinking about the plague.  Are you really that fucking boring?”

Julian bristles, but before he can speak, Lucio leans forward, his eyes fixed on me.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” he says silkily.  “I have friends in high places, now… I’ve even got a patron, and he wants to extend a personal offer to you, little witch.”

This can’t be good.  Lucio himself is bad enough… I shudder to think what kind of _patron_ he’s found…

“Since you’re so worried about the plague,” Lucio continues, casting a bitter glance to Julian, “He can stop it coming back.  Forever.  That sounds good, doesn’t it, little witch?”

“Too good to be true,” Julian mutters, taking hold of my hand.

“Don’t be so suspicious, Jules!” Lucio hisses, “You were never such a stickler for ethics before.  What wouldn’t you do to cure the plague?  What _didn’t_ you do?”

Julian falls silent and the goat starts to laugh.

“My patron will be here later,” he says, “And he will tell you the terms of the offer… not that it matters if you say no.  I’ve got friends in high places, and friends inside the palace.  They’ll make sure I’m back in time for the big show.”

Lucio’s chuckling fades into the night, along with his intangible form.

“Just you wait,” we hear, a last whisper on the air.

Julian and I stand in stunned silence together for a moment before he speaks.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mutters.

Julian wraps an arm around me, keeping me protectively close.  Together, we make our way out of the hedge maze in quiet, each of us spinning in unspoken worries. 

When we reach the veranda, it’s still and silent.  Nazali and Valdemar are nowhere to be seen.

“All that talk about a ‘patron,’” Julian says uneasily, “It reminds me of what the Hanged Man told me… Lucio’s made a deal to come back…. If this ‘patron’ can really stop the plague, I doubt he’ll do it for free… Deals like that always come at a price.”

I nod.  “I know…but if we refuse, and Lucio comes back…”

“He’ll bring the plague with him,” Julian says, passing a hand over his head, “Right into the Masquerade.”

He swallows hard, looking up at the glittering palace.  Half of the city is here for the party….Portia, Asra and Nadia are in there, somewhere.

“I… I’m worried about you, Sevrina,” Julian whispers.  “The plague already…”

He falters.  The unspoken words hang heavy in the air between us.  The plague nearly killed him once.  It did kill me.

“I’m worried, too,” I say, wrapping my arms around him.

It doesn’t seem fair.  Everything we’ve been through to this point… But with Lucio, his mysterious patron, and his allies in the palace against us…

“We can’t do this alone,” I say softly.

“Why don’t we go have a chat with the Countess?” Julian suggests.  “She’s got plenty of reasons to want to stop Lucio’s plans, and she has the power to help us.”

I nod, feeling a surge of hope.

“Asra could help us, too,” I say softly.  “He may be able to advise us how to move forward.”

“Excellent thinking,” Julian whispers, kissing my temple.

We head into the palace.

Finding one person in a Masquerade is easier said than done.  Each colourful room, each vibrant entertainment we pass, we see no one we recognize.  I keep my eyes alert for a head of ice-white hair—I badly need my Brother’s advice.  We turn a corner, still scanning crowds and groups for Nadia, and at the end of the hall, a group of partygoers are crowded around an open door, whispering excitedly.

“What’s this all about?”  Julian mutters softly.  As we get closer, we can hear bits of the discussion.

“Is it okay to go inside?  You think they’ll let me?

“Oh! Oh, I think she smiled at us!”

“Would you look at those costumes?  So glamourous!”

Julian uses his height to his advantage and gets on his tiptoes to peer over the crowd, then he rocks back onto his heels.

“Pasha’s in there,” he says.  “If she’s there, I’ve a feeling the Countess won’t be far.  Let’s see if we can get past this group….”

I follow closely as Julian weaves through the spectators, my hand in his, and we step into the room.   Above us is a vast, velvet-dark night sky, dripping with stars.  Threads of silver light shimmer between the stars, mapping the constellations.  The few guests in the room speak quietly, or simply enjoy the room in silence.

“Ilya!”

Portia’s voice is hushed, but no less vehement for it. She is wearing a colourful mask made to look like a cat, and dressed in swathes of gold and red. “Couldn’t even spare a minute to see me before the party, I see?”

“And show up to the Masquerade without a costume?  That would have been absurd!” he says in a teasing whisper.  The two embrace and he tweaks the nose of her mask.

“I love the mask—did a certain cat model for it?”

Portia smiles.  “She sure did!  I hope you’ve been enjoying the Masquerade?”

“I’d prefer it with fewer goats,” I whisper flatly.  Julian puts his arm around me again in a comforting gesture.

“Goats?” Portia asks.  “Are you talking about what happened in the rainbow room?  It’s going to take staff an hour to clean that up.”

Behind Portia, Nadia clears her throat.  She is dressed in an elegant feathered gown with a mask that reminds me of an owl.

“I’m glad to see you both,” Nadia says, kissing the two of us on the cheeks in greeting.  Behind her are two elegant, ethereal figures.  Portia straightens up and beams at us.

“May I Introduce the Crown Princess of Prakra, Nafizah Satrinava….”

The elegant woman in the tortoise mask and gauzy pink gown inclines her head slightly, but her attention appears to be elsewhere.

“…and the Prakran Ambassador, Princess Natiqa Satrinava.”

The woman in the golden lioness mask and teal gown approaches us, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes.

“You must be Sevrina, the magician,” Natiqa says enthusiastically.  “I’ve heard so much about you!”

I hesitate, not sure whether to bow.  She smiles reassuringly at me before her attention shifts to Julian.

“Now who might you be?” she asks warmly.  “Hmm… Auburn hair, dark mask, conveniently gloved hands… I’ve only heard of one man like that.  Could it be that a murderer walks free in the palace?”

Julian stammers a moment, caught off guard, but quickly recovers.

“Why, Princess Natiqa, surely you don’t believe that,” He whispers, “That would require a conspiracy at the highest levels of Vesuvian government.”

“What are you implying?” Natiqa asks, putting a hand over her heart, and with an air of being deeply offended.  Her eyes twinkle slyly and the corners of her mouth turn up playfully.

“Oh Natiqa, please,” Nadia breaks in, making her sister laugh.

“I was only having a bit of fun, Dia,” Natiqa says, then turns back to us.  “My sister has told us everything.  You have nothing to fear from us.”

“Though,” Nafizah breaks in, “Perhaps you fear something else.”

The sudden intensity of Princess Nafizah’s gaze nearly makes me take a step back.

“Yes,” Nadia whispers, “You do look distressed.  Is something amiss?”

I nod.  “Nadia, we need to talk, privately, if you don’t mind.”

“Say no more,” Nadia says.  “Guards, please escort the other guests out—perhaps to the bubble room?”

In no time, the room is almost empty.  The last guard shuts the door, blocking the hallway spectators.

“Natiqa, Nafizah,” Nadia says softly, “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course, Dia,” Natiqa says.  “Let us know if you need us.”

Natiqa strolls across the room, tilting her head back to take in the expansive view overhead.  Nafizah’s gaze lingers on me a moment longer, and then she turns and follows Natiqa.

“There,” Nadia says with satisfaction.  “We will not be disturbed.  Is this related to Lucio’s ghost?  Asra came by to warn me about him.”

“Yes,” Julian replies, “But it’s worse than we thought.”

“Of course he couldn’t let me hold a Masquerade in peace,” Nadia says with disgust.  “Very well.  What is my not-quite-deceased ex-husband up to?”

Julian and I recount our conversation with Lucio’s ghost.  Nadia and Portia listen as we describe his imminent return, the threat of the plague and the coming offer from his mysterious _patron_.  At the end, Nadia presses her fingers to her temple.  She looks deeply, intensely pained.

“Of course Lucio would insist on returning, no matter the consequences,” she says.

“Can you end the Masquerade early?” Julian asks.

Nadia shakes her head.  “Even if I did, that would only delay the effects of the plague, and that is the real threat.  Throwing the guests and therefore half the city into a panic would do nothing to help us.”

“We could see what his patron’s offer is,” I suggest.

“That sounds like a very bad idea to me,” Portia says softly.

Nadia nods.  “I agree…  The best solution would be to stop Lucio entirely.”

“What shall we do, Countess?” Julian entreats.  “How can we help?”

Nadia sighs and has a moment to think.

“Unfortunately, I can’t disappear from the party without raising suspicions,” she says, “So my sisters and I will keep the populace calm.  And I will ensure that Asra knows the situation, and can perhaps help me plan….  As for the two of you, you’ve had quite a busy night, and it’s likely to get busier.  I think it would be wise to take some time away from the crowds to recharge….Heavens know you’ve been through so much the last few days already.  I suspect it would do you both good—not to mention bolster yourselves for what is ahead—to have some much needed time to yourselves.”

I nod.  “I won’t lie, that sounds incredible.”

Nadia smiles and turns to Portia.  “My dear, I know you’re not on duty, but would you get the two of them some robes and send them to the master bath?”

Portia nods and chuckles.  “Yes, Milady, of course.”

Julian smiles.  “Thank you, Countess.”

“Thank you, Nadia,” I sigh, trying to smile.  Suddenly all I can think of are my scars.  Portia ushers us out of the room through a side door and into a quiet wing.  The sounds of the Masquerade fade behind us.  We stop at a hidden cupboard and Portia brings out two purple satin robes and hands them to us. Finally we arrive at a carved marble door.  Portia unlocks it and opens it wide for us.

“There are changing rooms in the front, you can hang your clothes there,” she says with a gesture to the changing doors, and then with a note of innuendo, “I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed….”

“Pasha!” Julian scolds. 

Portia laughs and shuts the door firmly behind us.

Finally, we’re alone.

Julian sees the nerves take me over and smiles as he takes off his mask.

“It’s alright,” he says softly.  “Oh, your shyness is so sweet… We’ll change separately.  And then, we will just get into the bath and relax together a while.  Doesn’t that sound nice?”

I nod and smile, casting a glance to the doors of the dressing chambers.

“I’ll see you out here again in a few minutes,” he says softly, and kisses me quickly.  “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

We step into our separate changing rooms and undress.  I take of my mask and hang it, along with my dress and then my under slip up onto hooks that line the wall, and once I’m down to my skin, I slip into the purple satin robe with gold trim, and tie it tightly around my waist.

I know Nadia wanted this to be nice for us… She must certainly have been convinced we’d make love last night, but oh, why did it have to be a bath?  Why a place my body would be displayed only to repulse him?  What will he say?  Will he still want me?  Is there any way to get out of this and just slip back to my chamber?

I heave a sigh and look at my face in the mirror.  I suppose it’s now or never.

I step out of the chamber with my arms tight around myself even though the robe is covering me from shoulder to ankle.   Julian is waiting in his robe with his back to me, looking over the chamber.  The light in here is low, and there are large windows covered in gauzy curtains overlooking the bridge.  The bath itself is huge and has tile-lined benches built into the sides for lounging on. On the side of the room is a larger tile bench covered in cushions.  Were it not for my anxieties about my scars, this would be most inviting.

When Julian hears the door to my changing room close behind me, he turns his head and smiles.  He’s so beautiful I can hardly breathe.  I step toward him and raise a hand to caress his cheek.  He closes his eyes and nuzzles into my hand, then looks at me with a sweet smile.

“Gods, you’re ravishing, Sevrina,” he whispers, kissing the mound of my thumb.  “If you told me before that I could be here with you like this, I’d have thought it was a fever dream…”

My heart is beating heavy.  I’m flying back and forth between nerves and longing, not sure which is dominant.  He smiles at me.  He senses I’m nervous and chooses laughter to melt it away.

“I’ll tell you one thing—you can’t get luxuries like this on a pirate ship!” and he tugs me gently over toward the bath.  He turns his back to me and I watch as his curious nature takes him to the colourful jars at the edge of the water.  His face lights up as he plucks up a bottle and sniffs the scent of its contents.

“I’d know this salty tang anywhere,” he exclaims, “Premium bath salts from Nevivon!  Oh what a nostalgic smell…”

He shakes the bottle over the water, dispensing a generous amount of salt, perfuming the air with a delicious scent.  He investigates a few more jars and occasionally adds a splash and sprinkle of their contents.  Pale blue steam rolls over the surface of the water, filling the air with the scent of the sea.

Then, he winks at me over his shoulder, shrugs out of his robe and discards it onto the floor before stepping his long, white body down into the bath, letting out a low, pleased sigh.   He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  Once he’s down into the bath, the water is up to his hip.  He runs his wet hands through his hair, dampening his curls, and he looks up at me.

“Come here, Sevrina,” he says softly, “The water’s divine.”

He grins invitingly at me, reaching a hand out to help me into the bath.  More than anything, I want to go to him, to caress his pale, bare skin and be drawn into his long arms, but I can’t manage to swallow down my fear. My feet stay frozen where I stand.

“What’s the matter, Sevrina?”

“Julian,” I whisper, trying to still myself from flying into panic.  “Julian… my scars…”

He looks at me with a questioning in his mismatched eyes.

“Remember in the marketplace, when my clothes were dishevelled…”

“I remember,” he says softly, nodding.  “You told me you were burned once.”

“Yes… They…. They cover most of the back of me,” I manage to choke out, “They’re hideous… I don’t want you to be disappointed… I’m not beautiful.”

“Oh, my sweet Sevrina,” he sighs, with a sad warmth in his gaze, “Let me decide what I find to be beautiful.”

When my chin quivers, he opens his arms to me, standing naked an unafraid in the water, and taking a step nearer to me, beckons me to him.

“Come to me in the robe, then, Kitten,” He murmurs, reaching for me, “Please… Come into the water.  You only need to show me when you’re ready.  Only please, come to me.  You can trust me.  I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.  Only please come to my arms, that’s all I ask…”

When I take my first tentative step down into the bath, he lifts me into his arms, and embraces me with a degree of gentleness I’ve never seen in him, but is at once familiar.  I’ve known him to touch me like this in a part of my life that I can’t remember.  I’m sure of it.

“This is why you’ve been so sheepish about changing clothes near me,” he whispers in realization, brushing his fingers lightly through my hair and gazing at me sadly.  “You weren’t shy, you were frightened of my reaction…  You thought I’d reject you?”

“Are you angry with me?” I whimper.

Julian kisses my forehead.  “No, no, no… I’m not angry, Dearest.  I only wish I knew so that I could assure you.  Oh, Sevrina, I hate to think you were being so hard on yourself… I hate to think that I’d ever made you uncomfortable…  Do you want me to get dressed?”

“No, Julian,” I heave, “If you think I don’t want you…. Oh, no, that couldn’t be further from the truth… I’m burning for you, Love… I have been since the night you broke in to the shop…  I haven’t the words to explain how much I want this with you…”

“Sevrina,” he breathes between showering my mouth and cheeks with kisses, “I don’t want to tread over any lines you’re uncomfortable with.  Please tell me if anything I do or say is too much.”

“You’ve never crossed a line,” I whisper, “Please know how fiercely I want you… I’m just so afraid how you will react to the scars…I know I didn’t have them when we were together before because in my earliest memories, I’m healing from them… I don’t know how I got them. I’m afraid once you see or touch them you’ll be revolted…  They’re really quite shocking…”

“Oh, my Little Sparrow,” he sighs, his beautiful bare chest heaving, “I could never be repulsed by you…  Your brilliant wit, your fiery heart, your magical spirit, your peaceful presence….You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.  I love you for far more than your body—You being the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is pure luck, but I would love you no matter what you looked like….  You’re utterly bewitching, my Sweet One...  I would willingly be your slave if that would prove my devotion….”

My hands go to the sides of his face and heavy tears pour down my cheeks.  Julian’s hands reach up to wipe them away, and he kisses me softly.  We kiss a few moments, and then I pull away and look him in the eyes.

“Please don’t cry, Sevrina,” he says lowly.  “Tell me what you want me to do—I’ll do anything.  How can I put you at ease?  I will obey any boundary you set.  I want this to be a happy moment for us, not one of tears… Nothing in the world could take the shine off of your beauty for me.”

I reach to my waist and untie the robe.  Julian watches me patiently, not sure exactly what I’ll ask of him.

“Do you think… if I showed you little by little…”

“Oh, I’d kiss them all the way down,” he says earnestly, his thumb running back and forth over my cheek. “I’ll love them because they are a part of you, and I love you wholly...”

We stand silently for a moment, our foreheads touching.  After a moment of bolstering my courage, I sigh and nod, and step back a few inches from him to turn around.  I open the robe and begin to slide it ever so slightly down my shoulders.  I know the scars are beginning to peak out from under it because his mouth flies to them with soft, reverent kisses.

“Go slowly,” I whisper.

“Promise to tell me if it’s ever too much, and I’ll stop,” he whispers into my ear, turning my head to kiss his mouth.

His mismatched eyes are dark, and there is a sweet flush to his cheeks…His desire is beautiful.

“I promise.”

“Are you ready?” He whispers.

“I think so,” I breathe.

His fingers travel lovingly to the top of the robe at my back, and he kisses my shoulders along the scars he slowly reveals.  I can feel that the hot breath he exhales between these sweet wet kisses is tremulous across my shoulders and down my back as he inches down the robe ever so slowly.  He’s careful not to miss even the smallest spot, and soon he has to drop to his knees in the water to reach the scars with his lips, and when he is kissing halfway down my back, one of his arms comes around me to hold fast around my waist while the other gently caresses my uneven disfigurement with caring fingers.  He’s slipped my robe entirely off and I am quaking with his hot kisses.  I am melting into him completely.  My fear is evaporating in the face of his fierce adulation…

“Gods, you are so beautiful, Sevrina,” he whispers fervently.  His desire hasn’t dwindled.  If anything, it’s heightened now that I am naked with him. “Oh, I adore you… I adore you…”

“Julian,” I whisper, tears escaping my eyes in disbelief of his ability to want me, still.  “Julian, let me kiss you…”

He gets to his feet and turns me around to kiss him, and we stand naked and waist-deep in the water, pressing our bodies together with a desperation we haven’t known. 

“You’re perfection,” He whispers breathlessly between kisses, trembling, begging, “So soft… Please, may I touch you?”

“Yes,” I whisper, yielding freely.  I have no desire to stop the flow of his wandering hands as they travel my breasts and my bottom.  His arousal is rigid and pressed between us until he wrenches his mouth from mine and pulls back to kiss his way down my throat and breasts, all the while my fingers curl into his untidy hair as I arch myself to meet his hot, wet mouth.  When he stands straight to kiss my lips again I let my hands wander him up and down, caressing his chest, his arms and sides, then down to his hips, and he shudders with delight as I wrap my hand around his shaft and stroke it slowly under the water.

“If I took you to that bench,” he breathes heavily into my ear between ravenous kisses, “Oh Gods, that feels so good… If I took you to that bench, would you allow me to make love to you?”

“Enthusiastically,” I exhale, pressing my body to his as tightly as I can.

His smile goes wide and he pulls back his face from mine to meet my gaze.  That playful wickedness I’ve come to adore is glittering in his contrasting eyes.  I have no desire to say no to him.  I’ve wanted this as badly as he has.

“I love all of you, Sevrina,” he mutters soulfully, “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Julian,” I whisper softly.

He kisses me again, then another intense gaze, and then he swiftly sweeps me up into his strong arms, making me scream with laughter as sheets of water splash up onto the floor.  The two of us laugh and I kiss him just below his ears as he carries me out of the bath and over to the tile bench.  He sets me down on it gently, and I sit as he arranges the cushions for me to lie on.

“That should be comfortable now,” he says, tugging at my wrist to get me to lie down.  “Relax, Sevrina, I want you to feel perfect.”

I recline on the cushions, stretching back. We wordlessly study one another’s bodies as he puts a hand on my thigh and gently urges my legs open enough to give him space to climb onto the bench with me. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set eyes on.

“You’re exquisite,” he sighs as he draws closer, extending his breath-taking body down the length of me, and kissing me slowly, deeply.  The weight of his body heightens my need, knowing that fulfilment of this longing is not far now. My hands travel up and down his back and his bottom, and my breathing goes heavy as his mouth kisses hotly down the side of my throat.

He whispers in my ears, “Oh, Sevrina, I want you…”

“Then have me,” I whisper back to him.  “I want you to…”

Julian draws back from me and looks me in the eyes.

“You want me to?”

“Yes…”

He lifts himself from me to look over my body again and draws his hands hungrily over my breasts, belly and hips.  I whimper as he touches me for the first time between my legs with a gentle hand as he takes his erection in the other.  He smiles as I murmur to him how good it feels to be touched as he probes the entrance to my body with sweet, exploratory fingers.  He gives his erection a few slow, sturdy strokes as he caresses me and then shifts his hips forward, nearer to me.  My heart is pounding and I watch him bite his lip as he slips the tip of his arousal inside of me, and the both of us let away throaty murmurs of love as he presses in.  He pulls himself back down over me for kisses as he begins to slowly roll his hips back and forward like waves.

“Oh, yes,” he murmurs low in his throat, “Oh, Sevrina…”

We kiss deep and I cling to him around his shoulders.  He looks into my eyes intensely, not making words so much as little grunts and murmurs of gratification as we press into each other.  I wind my legs around his to draw him deeper, to encourage him into a heartier rhythm which he responds to with a half-smile as he acquiesces to my wordless request.

He kisses me deeply and then pulls up to let his eyes travel down the length of my body to watch the place where we are joined.  His eyes are heavy-lidded and his white skin has flushed rosy across his cheeks and throat.  My eyes wander the path of his tawny body hair across his chest, then down the pale, smooth break of his hairless abdomen, and again where the hair goes dark below his navel in a seductive path that blends into to the thatch of short, chestnut curls between his legs.  The sight of him is enough to make me feel dizzy, the insurmountable pleasure of him inside me taking my breath away.

“Oh, Julian,” I sigh, “Oh, Gods…”

“Yes, Darling,” he heaves, “Tell me how you want it…”

He delights in my little whimpers as he holds my thighs, and increases his tempo to match the rhythm of my desperate hip-tilting.  He lets go breathy encouragements as I murmur soft pleas for more, to press deeper.  I feel my insides tighten around him and my eyes close as I mutter his name over and over again with increasing intensity as I climax.  The air all around us is sparkling with a silvery glow of unrestrainable magic as it happens, but Julian is watching me too intensely to take notice of the tiny starbursts flying all around us.  Tears flood my eyes.  He touches his forehead to mine and presses through, murmuring in his native tongue.

“ _Da_ … _Da, bol’she,_ ” he mutters, “ _Da… Bol’she, pozhaluysta…_ ”

He caresses my cheek as he lets go soft little whines and grunts as he watches my pleasure wash over me in swells, and he swiftly follows, tightly creasing his eyes and pressing his cheek into my hand as I reach up to touch his face.  His rhythm stutters and he mewls he crests, his cheeks flushed a sweet pink.  He turns his head to kiss the mound of my thumb and he smiles dreamily before he finally opens his dark, mismatched eyes and looks at me through the tousled curls that have tumbled over his forehead.  The tension in his body melts away entirely as he touches his forehead to mine, but his brow furrows emotionally as he sighs my name.  I start to tremble beneath him and the tears break from my eyes.

“No, no, Sevrina… Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head and smile.  “Oh no, Julian… you didn’t hurt me.”

“You’re crying…”

A tear breaks over his cheek.

“So are you,” I breathe shakily.  “That was a big release…”

“Oh my Sweet One…”

He kisses me reverently, then pulls back to look into my eyes again.  He wipes his cheek and smiles, then gently kisses away my tears.  He seems content that I’m not upset.  I run my fingers through his tousled hair.

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper.

“Oh, Sevrina,” he says softly, breath still ragged and emotion glistening in his eyes.  “I am completely and irrevocably under your spell….”

We kiss a few long moments before he withdraws from me and suggests we move back to the bath as there’s not much room on the bench.  I nod and he lifts himself from the cushions and helps me to my feet, the dreamy smile on his face never fading as we cross the room hand in hand and step back down into the bath.

Julian tugs my hand gently and takes a seat on one of the lounging benches, beckoning me into his arms.  I sit and settle in to his side.

“You are so beautiful, Julian,” I whisper.  He smiles warmly and kisses my hair.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” he says softly.  “Scars and all, you’re so beautiful... I wouldn’t change any part of you, you’re perfect…”

I hear a loud pop and start, making Julian chuckle.  A few more pops and bangs and I realise we can see the colourful detonations of a fireworks display through the gauzy curtains, and as Julian settles me into his arms he laughs lowly to himself.

“What is it?” I ask softly.

“I was just thinking we had better fireworks in here a few minutes ago,” he laughs, passing a hand over my head.  “You used to do that before, sometimes, too… Do you do those silver starbursts on purpose?”

I laugh.  “They just kind of happened…”

He is still smiling languidly as he pulls me over his lap to rest my head on his shoulder.  He showers my cheeks in tiny kisses and tenderly caresses the scars he can see from that angle on my shoulder blades.  I have never felt so beautiful.

“Well, I can’t remember ever having a bath this nice,” he says with a comical arch of his brow.  I muffle my laugh against his neck and he kisses my temple, chuckling. 

“I’m in awe of you,” I whisper, closing my eyes as he nuzzles my hair, and places sweet little kisses across my forehead.

He softly sloshes the heavenly warm water over my shoulders and caresses my back with loving fingers.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers seriously.

“I love you, Julian.”

In this moment, we are happier than we’ve got any memory of being.  It is still and calm, warm and quiet.  We listen to one another breathe and watch the lengthy fireworks display to its finish.

“I’d stay in this bath with you forever,” he sighs, “But I know we need to find Asra and The Countess.”

I tighten my hold on him and cling to his arms.  I don’t want to move.  I am flooding with fear.

“No,” I whimper.  “Not yet, please.”

“Sevrina, I’m afraid, too,” he whispers, kissing my cheeks comfortingly.  “But I’m not going to leave your side for a moment… I’d follow you through Hell. If there’s anything we’ve proven the last few days, it’s that we’re not going to let anything beat us.”

He draws his face back to look into my eyes.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers, “With every breath I take, I love you more.”

“Julian,” I whisper.  “Tell me it will be alright.”

He smiles.  “It _will_ be alright.  Just think—in a few hours this ordeal will be over and you and I will sneak away from the party to your chambers and make love until we can no longer move.  Nadia will beg us to get the hell out of her palace.”

I laugh in spite of myself.  He leans in and kisses me gently, his soft, sweet mouth open, tongue still playful, reaching through to touch the tip of mine.  His hand goes to the side of my face and his thumb caresses my cheek as we part, pulling back to stare silently at each other.

“I love you,” he says at last.  “I will never leave your side.”

I kiss him.

 

Once we’ve dressed, we walk hand in hand out into the hallway.  Portia is there and approaches us with urgency. 

“Alright,” she says, flying straight to business, “I’ve spoken to Asra and he knows what’s going on, and the Prakran princesses are making the rounds so that no one gets suspicious, but we’re not having any luck finding whoever is helping Lucio in the first place.  Milady asks that you help in the search for this mysterious patron so that we can stop what they have planned.”

Julian nods.  “Tell her it’s as good as done.”

Portia smiles and looks at me with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Good thing this wing is apart from the party…. Will I tell Milady you enjoyed the baths?”

“Pasha!” Julian scolds.  “Say nothing!”

Portia laughs boisterously and pats my shoulder.

“She knows I’m only teasing,” she says, “Anyway, Milady would probably prefer to coax the details out of her personally!”

I find myself laughing and cover my mouth as Julian’s eyes narrow into a playful scowl.

“She’ll divulge nothing,” Julian asserts, slowly beginning to laugh.

“Oh, you don’t know women at all, Ilya,” she laughs.  “I need to get back.  Be safe and good luck.”

Portia hugs me tightly, and then turns to embrace her brother.  She whispers something in Nevivonian, and he nods his head with a thankful smile.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says, “Come find us as soon as you see or hear anything.”

“We will, Portia,” I say.

With a smile and a wave, she disappears around the corner.  I turn to Julian, who is laughing softly and shaking his head.

“What did she say to you?” I whisper.

He smiles.  “She said, _all teasing aside, I’m glad to see you happy together_.”

I smile and take hold of his hand.

“What were you saying in the bath?”

“What’s that, Darling?”

“You were speaking Nevivonian just as the air sparkled.”

“Was I?” He laughs, “I didn’t realize… Sometimes with you, I’ll do that…. It’s like I forget how to speak Vesuvian in the moment.”

“You’ll need to teach me Nevivonian, then,” I laugh.

“I’ll be happy to give you ample excuses to translate,” he says with a chuckle.

We stand together in quiet a moment, hands joined, gazing at one another.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

I hesitate to answer for a second, and then I nod my head. 

“I’m afraid, but less so with you beside me,” I say.

“Oh, Sweet One, nothing could pry me away.  Take a breath and be assured of that.”

I close my eyes and do exactly that, and when I open my eyes again, I look up to him determinedly.

“I’m ready.”

He smiles and brings my fingers to his lips.

“Alright, then, Kitten… This is as good a place to start as any, isn’t it?” Julian suggests.  “Shall we see what we can dig up?”

I nod my head and, hands joined, we go down the hall, peering into each room as we go.  In one room, guests float in massive bubbles, bouncing gently around the room.  In another, a flowering meadow stretches from wall to wall, and baby animals frolic.

I suddenly hear a distressed voice cry out.

“Oh no… I do not like this at all!” It calls.  It’s Procurator Volta.  She is cowering at the end of a hall.  She hasn’t seen us.

“Oh, shut up, Volta!” Vulgora stalks by.  Wringing her hands, Volta scurries after them.

“They’re acting awfully strange,” Julian whispers.  “We should follow them and see what they’re up to.”

He tiptoes to the end of the hallway, then peers around the corner.  He beckons for me to follow.  He stops in front of a mostly-closed door and puts a finger to his lips to warn me to keep quiet.  The door is open just a crack.  Together, we peer inside.  The first figure I see is Valdemar.  This can’t be good.

“The time is now,” they say.  “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Vulgora exclaims, “I can’t wait to get back to breaking faces with him!  If anyone tries to get past me in the kitchen, I’ll crush them.”

I hear Praetor Vlastomil speak next.

“We must hurry,” he says. “I shall be in the waterfall room, and I shall suffer no interruptions!”

They all turn expectantly at Volta, but she says nothing, worrying distractedly at her gloves.

“Volta!” Vulgora shouts, startling her to attention.

“I… oh! I will be in the library, I will.  I promise!” she shouts.

“Very good,” Valdemar coos.

“And what about you?” Vulgora says with a tone of annoyance, “I suppose you’ll just be sitting back while we do all the work?”

“I’m supervising,” Valdemar qualifies.  “The creation of a bridge requires utmost precision.  If you have objections, you may raise them to Lucio, once you succeed.”

One by one, the courtiers leave through the far door.  Julian and I look at each other in astonishment.

“So these are Lucio’s friends inside the palace?” Julian says.  “And just when I was thinking the party needed a little more treason….. Now, I think Valdemar used to talk about this bridge thing—I don’t remember all the details, but I do know that if they get just one step wrong, the whole thing will collapse.”

I nod.  “Then let’s make sure they get it wrong.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Julian whispers. “We’re not going to have much time—who should we go after?”

“Procurator Volta seems like the weak link, don’t you think?”  I whisper. “She seems very unenthusiastic… Besides that, she’s small and we would be able to overpower her if it came to it…”

“Perfect,” he whispers, “but let’s make one quick stop—I have an idea.”

 

The library has been decorated for the Masquerade, but it doesn’t seem to be a popular room.  It’s empty except for Procurator Volta, fiddling with a contraption on one of the study tables.  She reaches into a bowl on the table next to her, bringing a handful of something to her mouth.  They crunch noisily between her teeth, bits of red dropping into her ruffled collar.

I could swear I saw one of the bits wriggle.  It makes me shudder.

The next time she reaches into the bowl, she stops, then scrabbles frantically in it.

“Oh no!” She cries in distress, “Oh no—It can’t be all gone!”

“That’s our cue,” Julian whispers.

We step into the library, carrying a tray of tiny sandwiches between us.

“May we offer you some sandwiches, Procurator?” Julian says with a charming smile.

“Oh yes!” she shouts happily, “You must!”

Together, we hold the tray out to her.  I have to fight to keep a straight face when she simply sweeps all the sandwiches into her arms and begins shovelling them into her mouth one by one.  It takes no time at all for her to finish the lot, and she looks up at Julian with her watery eye twitching behind her mask.

“Is that all of them?” She asks in growing distress, “That can’t be all of them!  There must be more!”

“Oh there are plenty more in the tea room, if you would like,” Julian explains.

“Oh… oh I cannot!  I must not!” she says, trying to instil some willpower and stick to the task at hand.

“Oh, that’s perfectly understandable,” Julian says with an air of very convincing sympathy, “But if you’ve had enough sandwiches, we always have cake!  There’s so many cakes to choose from.  Triple chocolate, vanilla chiffon, apricot basil, strawberries and cream…”

Volta clutches her face, her watery eye darting between the device on the table and the door.  As Julian lists cake flavours, she takes one step towards the door.  Then another.  And another.  And then she abruptly bolts out of the library.

“Well, that went well,” Julian says with surprise. 

Smiling, we turn our attention to the device on the table.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  Prisms, candles, mirrors, and in the centre, a lump of silver with a strange yellow sheen.

“Just in case messing up the timing isn’t enough,” Julian says, plucking up a few of the prisms and the lump of silver.  He puts them into his pocket and smiles at me.

We’ve done it.  I let out a soft laugh of relief and Julian is beaming as he offers me his arm.  I take hold of him and we had out of the library.

As soon as we step outside, I hear Volta’s footsteps pitter-pattering towards us.

“Let’s move, Sevrina!” Julian whispers.  He grabs my hand and together we make our escape.  We run pell-mell through the palace, darting between startled guests and running up the stairs.  By the time we finally slow to a walk, I have no idea where we are.

“I don’t hear anyone coming after us,” Julian whispers, still cautious.  “It looks like we did it, Sevrina!”

He embraces me and I’m trembling. It takes me a moment to feel as confident, but his arms feel so sure.

“Valdemar’s going to be steaming with anger,” he whispers.  “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when they find out the bridge failed…. Let’s go find Pasha and the Countess and tell them the good news.”

He links our arms again and leans in to kiss me.  Feeling suddenly peaceful, we walk down the hall together.  We went up several flights of stairs, so we must be in one of the palace’s towers.  Something suddenly catches Julian’s eye.

“Is that what I think it is?” he mutters, tugging me over to an open door, and we look out onto a balcony.  There’s some kind of pulley system attached to the building, and a platform next to the railing.  A cluster of partygoers whisper excitedly among themselves before one steps onto the platform.  A bored-looking attendant fastens them into a harness, checks the straps and steps back.  Then, with a wave, the guest steps of the platform and into the open air.  They glide down a line stretched between the pulley system and the ground, shrieking with laughter.  As they near the bottom, an attendant presses on a contraption attached to the line, slowing them down.

“Do you think that line can hold two people?” Julian asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“Let’s find out,” I say with a smile.

Grinning from ear to ear, Julian pulls me up onto the platform with him.

“Is there room for two on this line?” he asks.

The attendant doesn’t even bat an eyelash.  They fasten us into a two-person harness, tug on the straps and nod to us.  I sling my arms around Julian’s shoulders, and hang on for dear life.  He wraps his arm around my waist and presses a kiss to my temple.

“Are you sure about this?” I squeal.

“On the count of three,” he whispers.  “One… two…. Three!”

For a moment, my stomach swoops as the line dips under our combined weight, and then we’re gliding down the line together, the cool night air whipping past us.  The guests below us, carousing and dancing outdoors, are barely more than specks.  I hear a squawk overhead and Malak dives next to us, swooping and wheeling around us.  The palace is draped in silks and strung with lights, sparkling jewel-like in the night.  We zip past balconies draped with flowers and stone statues tucked into hidden alcoves.  In the distance, the rest of Vesuvia stretches out toward the horizon.  The Masquerade isn’t just in the palace—the city is alive with music and colour and celebration.

Julian’s torso, pressed against mine, is shaking.  The wind carries away the sound of is voice, but it can’t steal the sight of his laughing face from me.  And I am so in love with him.

The ground surges up to meet us, but we slow as we approach.  Julian unfastens the harness and we stumble to the side and collapse into a laughing, windswept heap.  It takes me three tries to stand up, my legs trembling from exhilaration and adrenaline.  I’m shrieking with laughter, and Julian, who is steady and on his feet again, is laughing at my laughing.  He holds me fast to him when I finally manage to get to my feet, my knees still feeling shaky from excitation. Malak flutters down to join us, landing on Julian’s shoulder.  One beady eye fixes in on me, and he starts preening Julian’s feathered collar.

“That was wonderful!” Julian cries, making Malak flutter his wings.  “Nothing like a death-defying stunt to wake you up!  Do you want to do it again?  Let’s do it again!”

Suddenly, we hear a voice calling to us, beckoning us into the garden.

“ _Sevrina…. Julian…._ ”

Julian stands at attention.  “What was that?  Who said that?”

I suddenly feel very uneasy.

“It came from over there,” I whisper, pointing back to the hedge maze, past a shadowed arch.

A raven-headed figure materializes from the gloom, a jolt of icy shock runs down my spine.

“Is that the Hanged Man?” Julian whispers.

Malak takes off in a flurry of feathers, launching himself talons-first at the Hanged Man.

“Wait!” Julian calls after him.

The Hanged Man steps back into the hedge maze, disappearing into the darkness.  Malak swoops after him.

“Did you see that, Sevrina?” Julian asks. 

I nod.  “The Hanged Man.”

And yet it can’t be him.  We’re not in his realm.

“I don’t trust this,” Julian says softly.  “We should investigate.”

Steeling my resolve, I nod firmly, and we chase the sound of Malak’s accusatory screams into the maze.  We emerge in a large, clear area filled with massive topiaries.  They’re all shaped like animals, everything from mice to dragons.  It’s a proper menagerie.

And waiting for us in the centre is the Hanged Man.

“You’re here at last,” he says softly.

Malak is trapped in one of his hands, wings pinned, beak and talons stabbing at thin air.  As we approach, the Hanged Man releases him.  Squalling furiously, Malak flails wildly in mid-air before managing to flutter back to Julian’s shoulder.  All of his feathers are ruffled, and he looks twice his normal size. 

Julian clears his throat and steps in front of me, a protective gesture.

“Now, I know this is a Masquerade,” he says, “But borrowing someone else’s _form_ is just childish.”

“You must be Lucio’s patron,” I say with as much bravery as I can.

I didn’t make the connection earlier, but now that I’m so close, I recognize that claustrophobic energy.  I’ve felt it on the edge of my awareness every time I do a reading.

“You’re the Devil,” I clarify.

The creature chuckles, low and dark.  It’s a far cry from the Hanged Man’s cawing laughter.

“How insightful,” he says coolly.  “I see there is no fooling you.”

Light wavers uncertainly around the form in front of us, the guise of the Hanged Man falling away.  We are now standing before a many-horned humanoid white goat in black and gold vestments.

“Very well,” he says, “Let us deal as equals.  Why don’t we take a little walk, hmm?”

The horned figure drifts away from us.  As he leaves, he hedges around us seem to press in closer. Unease and fear settle around my shoulders like a physical weight, tendrils of anxiety curling around my throat.

“I don’t like this, Sevrina,” Julian whispers.  “Let’s get out of here.”

I glance over my shoulder and swallow hard.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” I whisper, terrified tears stinging my eyes.

Behind us, the topiary animals have silently closed ranks, forming a wall of greenery.  I don’t know what would happen if we tried to get through them.

“Forward is the only option?” Julian asks.

I nod.  Then Julian nods.

“Stay behind me,” he says.

Left with no other path, we follow the Devil through the winding maze.  When we arrive at the centre of the maze, Quaestor Valdemar is already there, waiting for us.  My dread doubles.

“You!” Julian growls.

“Why yes, me,” Valdemar says, swirling a vial full of dark, viscous liquid. In the other hand, they hold a beaker with a black feather and a scrap of cloth in it.

“Before we begin, I must thank you for taking the time to chase my colleagues in circles,” Valdemar says.  “I would never have been able to complete the procedure if you’d found me earlier.”

Julian swears under his breath and a cold realization dawns on me.  Valdemar tricked us.  The other courtiers were decoys, and Valdemar carried out the real work.  Whatever they did, it was a success.  My heart flutters in my throat.

“Don’t mind my associate,” the Devil says with a soft laugh.  “I promise, no harm will come to you… while I’m here.”

“As much as it pains me to comply,” Valdemar agrees.  True to the Devil’s word, Valdemar stays where they are.

“Now,” the Devil says softly, “I trust Lucio delivered my offer, and you’ve had time to think it over?

“Why make us an offer in the first place?” Julian asks.  “What do you care about the plague?”

The Devil shrugs carelessly.  “I don’t.  The plague isn’t my doing, and I have nothing to gain from it, and nothing of mine is threatened by it.  You, on the other hand, will lose a great deal if it returns, but I can’t just cure it for _free_.  I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Why deal with us?” I ask.

“As opposed to whom? The Countess?”  The Devil laughs, “You’ve met her.  You must realize how much she despises Lucio.”

“With good reason,” Julian adds.

“I can’t disagree with that,” the Devil says, “But I suspect she’d consider me his accomplice, and refuse to consider any offer, no matter how good my intentions…. I thought the two of you might be more reasonable.  With your magic, Sevrina, and your medical expertise, Doctor Devorak, we could work together.  We could _save_ them.  So why don’t we see if we can figure out some mutually agreeable terms, hmm?  Stopping the plague is only a trivial effort for one such as myself.  So I suppose I should only ask for something trivial in return….”

He lapses into silence, apparently deep in thought.  He taps his chin with his clawed finger.

“How about… you, my dear?”

He points a claw directly at me. 

“Join me in the realm between for one night.  That’s all I ask.  In return, I swear that the plague will never trouble this realm again.  You’ll be free to go at sunrise.  In the meantime, I will not harm you, or anyone at this party.”

It’s such a strange request that I feel stunned.  Why would he want my company?

“One night,” the Devil reasserts, “Is that really so much to ask?”

“How do we know you will keep your end of the deal?” Julian asks.

“I think you know the answer to that, Sevrina,” the Devil mutters softly.

I do.  I remember Asra telling me this one afternoon, the cards spread out on the table between us.

“None of the Major Arcana can lie,” I say.  “That includes the Devil.”

“Precisely—if I say the plague won’t return, then it won’t.”

“Do you have to offer at all?” Valdemar protests.  “That would be so very disappointing if I couldn’t enjoy another plague.  Not to mention—I’ve never gotten to dissect someone who died of the plague _twice._ ”

Valdemar leans forward slightly, their gaze boring into me.

“Over my dead body!” Julian snarls.

“Oh, gladly,” Valdemar chuckles, “Shall I start on that right away?”

“Now, now,” the Devil chides, “I am a being of my word.  You cannot harm them while I am here.  Then again, I make no promise for what might happen when I leave…. So, you’ve heard my terms, Sevrina.  What do you say?”

I swallow hard.  One night for the city.  A few hours for hundreds of thousands of lives.  And then to return to this place, safe in the knowledge the plague will never touch this place, never touch Julian, never harm us or our friends…

“I accept,” I say, barely making a sound.

The Devil’s smile stretches slowly, malignantly across his face.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” he says insidiously.

The Devil curls a finger, beckoning me, and I feel a sharp jolt in my chest.  The pain is so blindingly intense that I barely have the breath to cry out.

“Sevrina!” Julian screams, then grabs my arm, crying out in surprise and pain.  Even though he is suffering the same blinding pain, he doesn’t let go.

All colour drains from the world around us, as first Julian’s body, then mine, slump to the ground.  I’m floating over my own unconscious body.  Horror and disbelief numb me from head to toe.

“What the hell is…. Get away from me!” Julian cries.  He lashes out as Valdemar approaches his body, but his hands go right through the other doctor.  He stumbles back in shock, and looks at me, his expression stricken.

“What….Sevrina, what’s going on?”

Before my eyes, my body dissolves, sublimating into silvery smoke.  Julian’s body remains inert, even as Valdemar starts dragging it away into the hedge maze.  The cloud of smoke races across the ground in the other direction.

“Sevrina!”  Julian calls, “Let’s go!”

Before I can stop him he runs after the smoke.  I have no choice but to follow.  The foliage blurs around us, leaves and branches whipping past us.  More than once, I think I hear someone laughing, but the sound is muffled and distorted, as though I’m underwater.  Shock gives way to fear and dread as we race through the maze, up to the palace and toward the ballroom.  Inside, a sea of party guests mingle.  Their faces are blurry, as if someone smeared wet ink on parchment.  I spot Portia in the crowd.

“Portia!” I scream, “Portia, help us!”

She doesn’t respond.  Nobody does.  I realize, to my horror, that they’re all looking _through_ Julian and I.  Like we don’t exist.

The smoke swirls up the stairs, unseen and unnoticed by the party guests.  At the top, it erupts up into a billowing cloud, then begins to coalesce.  A hush falls over the room as the clock chimes midnight.  The lights dim then extinguish entirely, leaving only a pool of light at the top of the stairs.

“It can’t be,” Julian whispers in disbelief, “Holy shit…”

Until now, I’ve only seen this figure in paintings.  In this monochrome nightmare, his is the only face I can see clearly, and once he solidifies, the world around us takes colour again. 

Count Lucio, now very much alive, strides down the stairs.

He throws his arms wide, basking in the stunned silence.

“Dry your tears, Vesuvia!” he calls out, “Your days of mourning are over!  Your beloved Count has returned!”


	17. The Tower

As Lucio descends the grand staircase, the crowd is deathly silent, scarcely daring to even breathe.

“Didn’t any of you hear me?” He bellows with a scowl.  “I said your beloved Count has returned!”

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, looking around expectantly for applause.  A noble screams and faints, then then the room erupts into chaos.  Several of the guests inch toward the door, and many abandon all pretence and flee.  Others cheer and clap, gathering around Lucio to welcome him back.  A panicking servant runs right through me and though I flinch, I don’t feel any resistance.

“Did we die?” Julian asks me with pleading eyes.

“No, we’re not dead,” I say, trying to reassure him by taking his hand.  “We’ve only been separated from our bodies.”

Julian doesn’t appear entirely convinced, but decides to trust me.

“If Lucio is back,” he says softly, “Does that mean…”

He doesn’t finish the horrible thought aloud.  I feel sick with dread.

“How long do we have before the plague returns?” I ask hesitantly.

Julian spreads his hands in a futile gesture and heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“It’s hard to say… Lucio himself wasn’t the carrier of the plague—it was those red beetles.  So long as we don’t see any of those, we can still fix this…. But how the fuck do we fix this?”

Screaming up a storm, Malak suddenly flies into the ballroom and makes a beeline right for us, swooping and diving over our heads.  He circles frantically, shrieking as loud as his little lungs can handle. I suddenly feel a swell of hope.

“Can he see us?” I ask aloud.

Julian gives me a harried look and tightens his hold of my hand.

“I think he wants us to follow,” he says, and pulls me out of the ballroom.  Malak finally stops screaming, and careens around the hallway, narrowly missing colliding with decorations.  From where we’re standing, I can still hear Lucio’s strident voice.

“Asra!” he calls, “Asra, where are you going?  Don’t you want to know how I came back?”

Asra exits he ballroom behind us.  He shuts the door behind him, and waits. 

“Well fine, then!  Fuck off, you arrogant little prick!” we hear Lucio call, “Noddy, you won’t leave me like that, will you?”

Satisfied that he isn’t being followed, Asra looks around the empty hallway.  His gaze stops on the area around my face, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“Sevrina,” he whispers to himself.  “Is that you?”

“Yes, help us!” Julian calls frantically, but Asra remains silent, looking puzzled.  Even when Julian waves his hand in front of Asra’s face, he doesn’t react.

“Gods damn it,” Julian says in frustration, “He can’t see or hear us, can he?  But he seemed to know you were there….”

I shake my head, feeling my heart sink… if even Asra can’t hear us, do we have any hope?

The door to the ballroom swings open again and Portia bustles out in a rush, wringing her hands.

“Asra!” she says with relief, “There you are!”

Behind her, raised voices drift out of the ballroom.

“What do you mean I’m not the Count anymore?” Lucio cries, “You couldn’t possible want that pudgy little redheaded rat when you’ve got _me_ back!”

Portia nudges the door closed with her foot, and rounds on Asra.  She doesn’t even glance our way.

“Nadia’s sent me after you,” she says, “Sevrina and Ilya are missing and we’re terrified something happened!”

“They’re missing?”  Asra asks, aghast.  “Then…. Sevrina?  Ilya?  Are you really there?”

He looks in our direction.  My heart flickers with hope again.  Portia looks right through the empty space where Julian and I are, and then back at Asra.

“Are you joking?” she asks, “This is a really fucking bad time!  Aren’t you worried, too?”

Portia suddenly bursts into tears.

“They’re missing, _he’s_ back, and Nadia is so upset, and… and….”

“Oh Pasha,” Julian whispers.  “Please don’t cry…”

He reaches out to put a consoling hand on her shoulder, but it passes right through her.

Malak flutters down and lands on Portia’s shoulder, and begins to caw raucously.  In response, a familiar serpent pops her head out of Asra’s sash.

“Faust?” Asra whispers.  “Listen to what?”

Malak chatters on and on and Faust turns her head this way and that, listening intently.  Julian looks to me for explanation.

“Asra can hear Faust,” I whisper to Julian, “And I think… I think Faust can hear Malak…. And if Malak can see us…” 

Julian looks to me with a spark of hope in his eye, and takes my hand.

“They a _re_ here,” Asra breathes, “They can hear us, even though we can’t see or hear them... somehow, they’ve been separated from their bodies…”

“They were _what_?” Portia exclaims, “What the hell does that mean!  How?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Asra says, showing alarm, “We have to get them back as quickly as we can.”

Portia studies his expression and nods.

“Nadia said to trust you,” she says, “So I will.  How can I help?”

“I will work on getting them back to their bodies,” Asra says, “But one of the courtiers stole Julian’s body, and Malak says he knows where.”

 The raven takes off from Portia’s shoulder and flies in a circle above her head.

“I see,” Portia says to herself as she watches the bird circle, “You’ll lead me right to him, won’t you?  Alright, but first…” Portia jabs a finger at thin air, three feet to the left of Julian’s face, but at the right height. “Ilya, you’d better make it back—otherwise I’ll find a way to get over there and I’ll kick your ass myself!”

“Oh, Pasha, I know you will,” Julian chuckles.

“Be careful,” Asra warns, “The courtiers aren’t as harmless as they appear.”

Portia nods.  “Oh, I know how to deal with them.  Come on, Malak!”

In a flurry of feathers, Malak flies off.  Asra looks around awkwardly, and lowers his voice.

“Sevrina, Ilya…. I need you to try to do something.  Go to the realms of the Arcana and wait for me in the Magician’s realm.  You can use the fountain as a portal, but be careful—The space between realms can be dangerous.  Look out for each other.  Keep each other safe.”

Just then we hear Lucio’s voice again.

“Don’t be like that, Noddy!” he shouts, “See?  Vulgora’s happy to see me!”

Asra winces as Lucio’s strident voice cuts through the chatter.

“I’d better go help Nadia,” Asra says softly.  With an effort, he composes himself and heads back into the ballroom.

Julian tightens his hold on my hand.

“We have to get to the Magician’s realm,” he says, trying to be reassuring, “Off on another adventure, my Love?”

He’s putting on a confident air for my benefit.  I can tell how nervous he is… I feel it, too.

 

The hallways are crammed with gossiping partygoers, but the gardens outside are still peaceful.  As we approach the fountain, the water ripples with a dizzying wash of colour.  When the water settles it reflects a starry sky, but it’s not the sky above us.

It is the realm between.

Julian’s hands find mine, our fingers intertwining. 

“Do we just jump in?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Is this going to be like the Hanged Man’s realm?”

I shrug.  “I don’t know what it will be, Julian.”

“Only one way to find out, then,” he says, taking my hands and taking a deep breath.  “Shall we, then?”

I nod my head, and heave a deep breath.

“Don’t let go of me,” he whispers, clasping my hands.  “Please hold on no matter what.  I couldn’t take being separated.”

“I promise I’ll hold on tight,” I whisper, letting go his hands and wrapping my arms around his neck instead.  He manages a smile and lifts me around my waist, stepping toward the fountain with me in his strong arms.

“Don’t ever let go, Kitten,” he says urgently. 

“Hold tight to me too,” I whisper. “I love you.”

He smiles.  “I wouldn’t let go for all the pirate gold in the world.”

His voice trembles, terrified, but, he steps up onto the edge of the gazing pool and we plunge into the water, clinging to each other.

My sense of time and direction fades away.  Around me, the darkness shudders like a living thing. 

“Sevrina?” I hear Julian saying, “Sevrina, are you alright?”

I open my eyes in Julian’s arms, the worried pinch between his brows eases as I wake.

“Oh, thank Gods,” he whispers, in relief.  “Alright, easy does it now…”

He helps me to sit up, his hand steady on my back.  His touch is reassuring but his expression is one of distress as he looks around us.

“Where are we?” he asks.

The starry void is familiar.  I saw it not long ago, on my way to the Hanged Man’s realm.  He saw it when he was caught between life and death, but he must not remember it.

“We’re in the space between realms,” I whisper.  A frisson of unease runs down my spine….We’re here now, but where do we go?

I start to tremble uncontrollably and fall into his embrace, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” I wail into his chest, clinging to him tightly, “Julian, I thought it was only me he wanted… I thought it was only me he’d take!  I never meant to put you in danger… I couldn’t cope if you’re hurt because of me…!”

“Sevrina,” he says comfortingly, kissing my temples, “Sevrina, no, I _chose_ to go with you,” he says.

“What?” I say, aghast, “Why?  How?”

“I wasn’t going to let you do this alone,” he says, taking my face in his hands.  “I promised I’d be right by your side come what may… I don’t know how I did it, but I just… decided.  And then it happened…. And here we are.”

“Julian,” I sigh.  “Julian, I’m terrified….”

“So am I,” he admits, “But we have to believe we can make it through.”

I lock eyes with him a moment.  He is still and steadfast, and he is choosing to believe.

“I don’t know how to make it out of here,” I whisper.

“Then I suppose all we can do is start walking,” Julian replies.

In that moment, there’s a bark of a dog.  Julian and I start, and see that not far from us, the figure of a white dog standing upright, clutching a tall walking stick and bearing a pack on her back is beckoning us to follow.  Neither of us can tell where she’s come from.

“Who is that?” Julian asks me expectantly.

“I don’t know,” I reply.  She’s not any of the Arcana, but I feel instinctively as if we should trust her.  Her tail sweeps back and forth and she continues to beckon us.

“I think we should follow her,” I say, “I think she’s trying to help us… I feel as if we can trust her.”

Julian nods.  “You have good instincts, Sevrina,” he says.  “If you trust her, so do I.”

He helps me to my feet, and we approach this mysterious guide.  With an approving nod, she starts walking, beckoning us to follow.  Glittering starlight coalesces under her feet, forming a path.  Julian is astonished at the sight.

“We shouldn’t be able to walk like this, you know… how astonishing,” he whispers.  He veers to the side and leans over the edge of the path, peering down into the void.  “Sevrina, look at this…!”

“Julian!”

I lunge forward, just as he starts to tip over the edge of the path.  Julian makes a sound of alarm, and my outstretched fingers brush down the back of his coat, sliding along the smooth fabric before finding purchase.  He flails wildly, trying to grab onto the path, but he can’t pull himself back up.  Tightening my grip on his coat, I dig my heels in.  For a long, heart-stopping moment, I feel him slipping from my grasp and then another pair of hands latch onto his coat, below mine.  Our guide barks once, then twice, and on three, we both lean back hard.  With our combined strength, we manage to pull Julian back from the edge, collapsing in a heap at the centre of the path.  I can feel Julian trembling, shaken by the near fall.  I cling to him and pant for breath, trying to still my panic.  Our guide tugs pointedly on Julian’s coat, and shakes her head disapprovingly before she lets go.

“Thank you,” Julian says softly, embarrassed, “I’m sorry… Feeble, human curiosity… I will stick to the centre of the path from now on….”  

The dog stands up, vigorously shaking herself, and then continues walking.

“I’m sorry, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “This is all new to me, I don’t realize the dangers.”

“Stay with me,” I say, kissing his cheek.  “Don’t stray from my side.  Stay with me.”

He nods.  “I will.  I swear.”

We look ahead and keep following our guide.  She glances back occasionally to make sure we’re still following.  Julian wraps an arm around me in an action that seems both protective and comforting to himself, and we continue to follow her.

“You know,” Julian says softly, “Somehow she reminds me of Brundle.”

“Who is Brundle?” I ask.

“Who is Brundle?  My old dog, don’t you…?”

He cuts himself short, and a flush of shame creeps up his neck.

 _Don’t you remember?_ He meant to ask.  Whatever memories I have of Julian’s dog, they’re gone now.  He squeezes me slightly.

“I’m sorry, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh,” I hush him, “It’s alright.  Tell me about Brundle.  I love your stories.”

Julian smiles.

“Ah, where do I start?” he says with a laugh.  “She was one of those dogs that was old even as a pup.  A little surly.  She was wrinkly all over, and stared dolefully at anyone that disappointed her.  Usually that was me.”

I laugh softly.  Julian’s mouth quirks up at the corners. 

“She was a bloodhound, although I didn’t realize it right away because she was so small.  I found her in the street as a pup shortly after going to Prakra to study medicine.  She was underweight had an injured paw she was licking at it and crying.  I took her back to my rooms I was staying in and saw she’d tread on some broken glass.  She whined when I cleaned her up, took out the glass and stitched up the pad of her paw, and I kept her as she recovered, but it was all over for me, I’d fallen for her, she was mine from then on, I wasn’t going to send her back to the streets to fend for herself.

“She was such an ornery girl, though.  She always looked at me as if she couldn’t believe what an idiot I was.  She must have felt sometimes like I was her big, stupid, two-legged puppy she had to protect.  She went with me even when I was working as a medic in the battlefields, always fussing over me when I was between shifts in the medical tents, and stayed with me through my pirate days.  She loved sitting on deck with me while I played my vielle, half snoozing with her head on my knee.”

“You still had her when you and I knew each other, then?”  I ask.

“Oh yes, I brought her to Vesuvia,” Julian says, “But she was very old then.  She’d gone quite grey in the face, but that wily look in her eye never faded for a second.  She was a bit wary of other people, but she took to you.  She even let you walk her in the gardens when research kept me.  She strolled with us often…. I used to talk to her about you at night, before I told you how I felt.  She had these eyes that looked like she really listened.  She was such a good girl.  She also hated Lucio.  Good taste.”

I laugh and lean my head against his shoulder as we continue to walk the starlight path, following our guide.

“What happened to her?” I ask softly.

Julian is still smiling when I ask, but his eyes look a little sad at the memory.

“I came back to my rooms after working in the palace clinic one day, and she was curled up at the side of the steps in the evening sun,” he says.  “I thought she was asleep, but the old girl was gone.  She peacefully passed away in an evening nap.  I like to think she knew that with you, I would be safe and loved, like she decided it was alright to go then because she trusted you to keep me in line.  It was only a short while later that I told you I loved you…”

His delight is infectious, and before long, we’re softly laughing together.

“Oh, Brundle, Gods love her…. She was such a good dog.  Lots of wrinkles.”

Up ahead, our guide suddenly stops and barks sharply in warning, all her fur standing on end.  A crimson lightning bolt streaks through the night sky above us.  It impacts behind us with a crash that reverberates through my whole body.

“Oh no,” Julian breathes, tightening his hold on me.  I turn around and an icy weight drops into my stomach.  Behind us, the glittering path is crumbling into the void below.  Julian spins me back around and grabs my hand.

“Run!” he screams.  The panic in his voice spurs me into action.  We sprint down the path, trying to stay ahead of it, but it’s no use.  Under our feet, the starlight path rolls like a wave.  Julian grasps hold of me, pulling me in to his chest protectively.

“Don’t let go, no matter what!” he screams. 

“I won’t, Julian!”

The path buckles under us, sending us tumbling through the darkness.  Fragments of stardust and nebulae fall with us, our guide howling in the distance, before it all fades away.

It’s minutes, or maybe hours, before I slowly realise that something’s different… the sensation of falling has faded.  It takes me another moment to realize that I’m lying on my back.

When I open my eyes, an unfamiliar scene greets me.  I’m on a landing between levels of spiral stairs in a grey stone tower.  The air is cool and I can hear the wind rushing outside.  I don’t understand how I got here.

Julian….

I sit up too quickly and vertigo leaves me gasping and shaky with a rush of panic.  My heartbeat calms when I see Julian lying next to me.  He’s dishevelled, but still in one piece, and still clasping my hand.

“Julian?” I say softly, my head still spinning, turning to him and touching his shoulder with a trembling hand. 

He rouses and slowly opens his mismatched eyes.

“Sevrina!” he breathes in relief when he sees me.  Just as I did, he sits up too quickly, and winces.  Even so, he reaches to me and gently takes my cheeks with both hands.

“Darling, are you alright?” he whispers, searching my face for signs of pain, “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no… Just a little shaken,” I say, slipping into his embrace as he opens his arms to me.  “Are you alright?”

He leans forward, curling his fingers under my jaw, and kisses me.

“Yes,” he says as we part. “Knowing you’re alright is all I need.”

After a moment clasped in one another’s arms, the two of us survey our surroundings and get to our feet.

“Where are we?” Julian asks.

While Julian goes to look out of the small narrow window that is up a few stairs, I step over the peer over the edge of the landing.  The stairs spiral endlessly down into the darkness.  When I look up, I see the same above us.

“It looks endless,” I say.  “I don’t know if we should go up or down.”

Suddenly, there’s a muffled sound that jerks Julian to attention.  He looks stricken.

“Sevrina!  Did you hear that?” he whispers urgently.

A faint, agonized scream drifts in through the window.

“…. _help me_ …”

I join Julian at the window, peering out.  A thick, all-encompassing bank of fog surrounds the tower.  I can’t see more than a foot in any direction.

“…. _it burns...please…_ ”

The fog muffles and diffuses the voice.  It’s impossible to tell where it’s coming from.

“You can hear that, right?” Julian whispers, visibly disturbed.

I do, but… Something about the voice isn’t right.  I strain my ears, struggling to pinpoint the source of my unease.  The next cry comes through the fog with frightening clarity.

“… _make it stop…_ ”

A sudden chill runs down my spine.  I know that voice.  All colour drains from Julian’s face.

It’s my voice.

“…d _on’t leave me, please…!”_

I’ve never heard my own voice sound like that.  Agonized, desperate, afraid.

“Sevrina,” he gasps, clearly affected by the sound of the voice.  “Sevrina, is that…”

“No, Julian,” I say softly, touching him reassuringly on the arm.  “I don’t think there’s anyone there.  It’s an illusion.  It’s not me.  I’m right here with you.”

As soon as I say that, my suspicions coalesce into certainty.  I know where we are.

“We’re in The Tower’s realm,” I explain, “It’s trying to manipulate you.”

“And it’s using your voice to manipulate me with... what?  My fears?  My helplessness?”

I nod firmly.

“But it’s wrong,” I say comfortingly.  “I’m right here, and you’re not helpless.  Don’t doubt.  I’m here, and I will never lie to you.”

This time, when that suffering cry sounds again, we’re ready for it.  Julian shudders and puts his arms around me.

“You’re here with me,” he whispers, more to himself than to me, as he kisses the crown of my head to convince himself.  “You’re here with me…  That isn’t you…”

I hold tight to him as the voice fades, and though we listen for a few minutes more, we don’t hear it again.  After a moment of steeling himself, Julian lets go of me, ready to face the task with a brave resolve.

“How do we get out?” He asks.

He leans on the windowsill, then yelps as something gives way under his weight.  His support gone, he slips and falls on his backside with a soft _oof._   A loose brick clatters down into the fog.

Julian gets back to his feet, hem-hawing a bit.

“Well… Not my most dignified moment,” he mutters, and then his jaw drops open as he stares behind me.  I turn just in time to see the loose brick hit the landing with a thud.

“How in the world?” Julian mutters to himself.  “No…. that’s impossible.  Isn’t it?  It is… but what if it’s not…?”

He pauses, staring silently at the brick, then he looks to me and smiles.

“There’s only one thing to do!” He says enthusiastically, then bends and starts pulling off one of his tall boots, hopping on this other foot to keep his balance.  Bemused, I can only stare.

“Julian,” I ask with a laugh, “What are you doing?”

He yanks his boot free and straightens up, victorious.

“What I do best, Sevrina,” he says, shaking his boot in triumph, “Science!”

He strides confidently to the window, and chucks his boot out and into the fog.

“Now, if I’m right…” he says, trailing off.

Suddenly a thud sounds from behind us.

“Aha!  I _am_ right!”

His boot lies on the landing.  He scoops it up, and peers over the edge of the stairs.

“Now, experiment number two…”

He tosses his boot down the centre of the Tower, and cranes his neck up, waiting.  Abruptly he scoots back and holds out his arms to catch his falling boot.

“And that’s what I call evidence!” he says with a laugh.  His whole expression suffused with delight, he tugs his boot back on while he talks.

“Somehow, this tower is a contained loop,” he says, “Anything that falls down it, whether it’s inside or out, winds up looping back inside…. If we were in our world, it would be impossible.  And I have no idea how it works, but…”  Suddenly he looks vaguely queasy.  “But that means we’re stuck here forever…. No, no we can’t be… If there was a way in, there has to be a way out…”

He paces back and forth across the landing.

“Brain, don’t fail me now,” he sighs to himself, passing his hand over his hair.  “I’ve never regretted learning science instead of magic, and I don’t plan to start now.”

Something about the way he phrases that gives me pause.

“What do you mean, _instead of magic_?  Why not both?”

“What?  Because…. Both isn’t an option, is it?”

“I was a magician learning medicine,” I say softly.  “Nothing says a doctor can’t learn magic…. Have you ever tried it?”

“No,” he says hesitantly, “You’re not going to try and teach me, are you?  I don’t have the talent…”

“No, Julian,” I say, laying a hand on his arm, “Anyone can learn magic.  Natural talent helps, but it’s not required.”

Julian shifts from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

“Doesn’t magic require… years of study, or something like that?” he asks uneasily.

I shake my head.  “Not all of it.  We could do something simple in a few minutes.  Besides, we’re in the realms of the Arcana.  Time flows differently here.”

Julian still doesn’t look convinced.  He tries to say something, but his voice wavers uncertainly, then trails off into silence.

“We can do this together,” I say encouragingly.  Something in my intuition tells me this is the right path.  “The Tower is a symbol of disaster and upheaval, but it can also mean change and rethinking old beliefs.”

“Well,” Julian says with a sigh, then pauses and chuckles, “Who would have thought I’d be so nervous about learning something?  Alright, Sevrina.  I trust you.  If you think this is the way to proceed, let’s give it a try.”

I smile and sit down cross legged on the platform and motion for him to sit facing me.  I remember the way Asra taught me about magic.  The visualization, the breathing exercises, the theory, but I don’t think anything so abstract will work for Julian, at least not right away.

I search my memory for a simple exercise.  Something concrete that we can do together.

“Do you have something to write with?” I ask.

He smiles.  “Darling, I always have writing tools.  I never know when I might need to take note of something.”

Digging through his pockets, he fishes out a small leather journal and a lead.  I ask him to tear out a page and I set it down on the floor between us.

“Alright,” I say, “We’re going to draw a magic circle together, and make a little flame.”

I trace each shape and symbol on the parchment with my finger, and Julian follows it with the lead.

“…And this symbol is for a _ction_ ,” I say in conclusion, “It’s what makes the whole circle work.”

“So if there’s no action symbol, this is just an esoteric drawing?”

I nod.  “Exactly.  Now, put your hands here and here…”

I guide his hands to the right positions, on either side of the circle.

“Like this?” he asks.  His trepidation has given way to a desire to get it right.

“Yes, just like that,” I say.  “Now, focus on the action symbol in the centre, and think about fire.”

“What about fire?” he asks, still wanting more guidance.

“Think about the sight of it, the heat, the smell of the smoke…”

I can feel a tingle of magic building in his hands, but it not yet strong enough.

“Now, think of something you want to burn,” I say. 

It works.  A tiny flame ignites at the centre of the circle, flickering weakly in the still air.  Julian’s jaw drops in shock, and the flame gutters briefly.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, “Am… am I doing that?”

A fierce pride blooms in my chest, and I nod in enthusiastic excitement.

“You are,” I say with a happy laugh, “You’re incredible… What are you thinking of burning?”

“I…er… Count Lucio,” Julian admits.  “I mean, I never really wanted him dead before.  I just wanted the plague to be over… But now?  He’s put you in danger, stole your body, made Pasha cry…”

The flame burns higher and brighter with each word he says.

“Alright, easy now,” I say to calm him, “You can take your hands away now, Julian.”

As soon as he does, the flame extinguishes, leaving behind a tiny scorch march on the paper.

He looks up at me, his gaze bright with adoration, then cups my face in his hands and kisses me.

“Of all the things I thought I could do,” he says tenderly, “I never thought I’d be capable of magic.”

“You’re capable of a lot, Julian,” I say softly, “That was so well done.”

Flushing with pleasure, he beams at me.

“Say, I suppose this makes me a bona fide magician, doesn’t it?  I bet we could get up to all sorts of trouble together…”

He leans a little closer, the curve of his mouth inviting me to take him up on the challenge.

“I’ll show you some trouble,” I say wickedly.  And I know just the thing.  “I think you deserve a reward.  Lie back.”

“I think I like where this is going,” he chuckles, and makes a show of getting comfortable, undoing buttons on his shirt and stretching out for me.  I look at him and smile, so in love with him and his mischief.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Sevrina,” he says lustily.

Changing the temperature around my hands is a simple trick.  It’s good for warming he hands on a winter morning, keeping drinks a certain temperature… And, I suspect, for other activities.

I touch my fingers to my forearm, and shiver.  Satisfied, I touch my icy fingertips to his jawline.  He draws in a quick breath.  His skin has always run cool, but now he feels warm under my chilled touch. 

“Is this alright?” I ask softly.

“Oh yes,” Julian says with a throaty sigh, “I _do_ like where this is going….”

I brush my fingers over the line of his exposed throat, and rest my fingers over his pulse, feeling it jump.  His face is flushed and he bites his lip, arching his back in further invitation.  Instead, I run my thumb over the jut of his collarbones.

“Mm, Sevrina,” he sighs, cutting himself off, gasping when I press my cold palms to his sternum.

I sit back and smile to myself as I rub my hands together.  In the absence of contact, Julian blinks a few times, and cranes his neck up to look at me.

“Lie back down,” I say, assuring him in a purring tone that I haven’t finished.

He obeys immediately, his whole body trembling with anticipation.

When I pull my hands apart, I can feel heat radiating from them.  Hot enough to be soothing, but not to burn.

This time, when I rest my hands on his chest, Julian gasps in surprise.

“Sevrina,” he groans softly.  His skin, frigid where I touched him before, warms under my touch.  He closes his eyes, making a low, aching sound as I skim my hands down his sides.

Oh, I’m aching, too, Julian…

I get him to sit up to kiss me and cuddle up closely into his side.

“Open your trousers,” I whisper.

His eyes shoot open and he looks at me in surprise. 

“What?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

His startled look melting into a naughty one, he laughs low in his throat as his hands go to open his trousers. I charge my hands with cold again and run my touch in little circles over his nipples, making him shudder deliciously as they go erect, his skin raising into gooseflesh.

“Do you want hot or cold?” I ask, teasingly walking my fingers down his torso.

“Hot,” he whispers hoarsely.  “Please…”

I chuckle lowly, charging my hands with warmth again.  “Yes, love…  I want you to tell me how you like it…”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing hard as I slide my hand into the front of his trousers, taking hold of his hardening member and drawing it out of the confines of his clothing.  He kisses my mouth and moans softly as I begin to stroke him to full attention. 

“How’s that?” I whisper, my mouth just barely parted from his.  “Do you like this?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Is that warm enough?” I ask.

“ _Mmmhmm_ ,” he whimpers.  He closes his eyes and I bring my teasing pace up to a more eager rhythm.  He groans softly and cranes his head back briefly before a weak smile twitches up the corners of his mouth.  When I increase the speed of my strokes a little further, he opens his eyes with a shuddering sigh and looks down at my hand, working his shaft at a furious pace.

“There’s a handkerchief in my bodice,” I whisper.  “Take it out.”

Julian bites his lip as his long fingers go to my breast and his fingers probe under the lace trim of my neckline.

“On the left side,” I direct him.

His cheeks are quite pink as he watches my hand. Once he finds the handkerchief he pulls it out and turns his head back to look me in the eyes.

“Kiss me, please,” he whispers.  “Please…”

I give in to his request but I keep it short and sweet to keep myself from becoming lost in this wave of desire.  I want to please him, but I want to keep it brief...

I nuzzle his hair and kiss his coarse sideburns, keeping my warmed hand pumping him steadily.

“That’s a good boy,” I whisper, igniting a low, growling laugh in him.  “Does that feel good?”

“Oh Gods, yes,” he heaves.

“Are you going to finish for me?”

“Yes…. Ah… Yes…”

“Lay back…”

Julian does as I tell him to and I open wide his shirt and jacket with my free hand.

“I want you to finish for me, Julian,” I whisper.  “I want to watch you…”

He whines softly and it isn’t long before he tilts his hips up into my rhythmic stroking and he groans with the first pearly spurt of his emissions erupting over his belly and chest.  His brows are knit together in a strained pinch, eyes creased tightly shut, and his little cries of pleasure escape his mouth in huffing breaths. 

After a moment of catching his breath, he whimpers my name.

“Sevrina… Sevrina, kiss me… Please…”

I shift over to his side and lower my mouth to his.  His hands fly to the side of my face and he kisses me fervently, the last of his soft, sweet whimpers melting in my mouth.

Once I part the kiss, I sit back.

“How was that?” I whisper teasingly.

“Oh, you _temptress_ ,” he heaves, beginning to laugh softly.  “Oh, Darling, I am so glad you haven’t lost a bit of your wonderful licentiousness…”

I reach and take my handkerchief from his hand, setting about wiping his torso clean of his spend.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his breath still steadying.  “I love you so much, Sevrina.”

“Am I to understand you enjoyed yourself?” I ask with a mischievous grin.

Instead of answering, he levers himself upright, gazing at me with such intensity it leaves me breathless.  He reaches for me, drawing me into a heated kiss.  His arms wind around my waist, warmer and sure, and he sighs against my lips.

“Oh, you’re going to be in trouble when we get our bodies back,” he chuckles lowly, “I’m going to take you to bed and keep you there for days….”

“I’ll make sure you keep that promise.”

He kisses me again.  I could lose myself in Julian’s arms forever.  His whole body radiates satisfaction.  He parts our mouths and rests his forehead against mine, a lazy smile playing over his lips.

“Well, that was awfully informative, Sevrina,” he chuckles, “I would love a follow-up lesson later.”

I smile.  “I think that can be arranged.”

I’m reluctant to move, but I know we have to.  I press one last kiss to the corner of his smile, then start disentangling myself.  Julian straightens his clothes and then sets about picking up his writing things to put in his pockets.  Then we get to our feet.

“I guess we don’t get out of here just by making a tiny flame,” he says softly.  “What do I do?”

I still think he’d be uncomfortable with anything too abstract.  But if I’m right about the tower, even trying will be enough…

“I’m going to guide the magic for the both of us,” I say softly, “Just follow my lead.”

“The stage is yours,” Julian whispers.

“Focus on the circle of our arms,” I say encouragingly, “And send me your power.  Even if it feels full, don’t stop—We’re going to make a shockwave.”

Julian nods as I take his hands in mine, forming a ring with our arms.  When I reach for my magic, it courses up through my body and down to our joined hands.  Julian starts, his eyes wide with surprise, wonder, maybe even a little fear.  He can feel it, too.  I squeeze his hands reassuringly, and he relaxes, and his expression changes to one of focus and determination.  Within him, his magic answers mine, readily and unselfishly placing its power at my command.  I guide our combined energies into the space between us, contained by the circle of our arms.

“Am I helping?  Are we doing this?” He whispers.

“Perfect, Julian, don’t stop…”

With Julian here, our combined power is stronger than I could ever manage on my own.  Around us, the Tower trembles.  The whole realm seems to be holding its breath.

“Ready when you are, Sevrina,” Julian says, a nervous smile on his face.

With a final effort, I let go of Julian’s hands, breaking the circle. Magic lashes out at the walls, the sheer power of it nearly knocking me over.  Before such an onslaught, the forces holding the Tower together shudder briefly, then fail.  Julian lunges for me, grabbing my hands tightly as the Tower crumbles under us.

“Sevrina, we did it!  Look, we did it!” He laughs as we fall through the starry void together.  The realms of the Arcana spread below us, glimmering like jewels in the dark.  A colourful oasis sings out to me, radiating a familiar energy.

The Magician’s realm.

With the last of my strength, I reach out for the Magician’s realm, and it rushes up to meet us. 


	18. The Star

Using our combined magic, our descent slows to a float over a moonlit beach and we land so softly we barely disturb the sand.

Julian squeezes my shoulders, his expression suffused with delight and triumph.

“I still can’t believe we did it!” He shouts joyfully, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me until he loses his balance and we collapse onto the sand, laughing.

“What an adventure!” He shouts, splayed out on his back beside me, breathless in his jubilation.  “How did we… Magic…? Sevrina…. Fuck, I can’t believe this!”

He energetically pulls himself up on his elbow and turns to me, lying over me at my side and looking at me through a mess of untidy auburn curls.

“Did we make it?” he asks with his smile still wide, “Is this the place?  Are we in the Magician’s realm?”

“I have no doubt of it,” I say, reaching a hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes.  He presses his face against my hand, kissing my palm and then grabbing hold of me and pulling me over him in a fit of giggles.  We lock our gaze and the laughing fit subsides as he draws my mouth down to his.  His kiss is frenzied and when we part he laughs softly.

“Oh, Gods, I love you,” he sighs with an expression of wonder, “Sevrina… Oh, Darling, we’re lovers again...”

I smile.  “Oh, yes,” I say, drawing down for another kiss, “I love you so…”

We kiss and I settle into his arms, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder.  We’re safe for now, and I am taking strength from being in his arms.  We can enjoy a brief respite—There is nothing to do now except wait for Asra.

“Can you teach me more magic when we’re back to Vesuvia?” He asks enthusiastically.  “That thing you did with your temperature would be helpful in a clinic—my patients used to complain of my hands running cold.  Do you know any spells to heal wounds or break fevers?  Oh Gods, this opens up possibilities, doesn’t it…. And you, my Dear…  Is there anything I could learn that would drive _you_ wild?”

“I’m sure we can teach you some good practical magic when we get home,” I laugh.  “But you don’t need magic to drive me wild, Julian.”

He laughs lowly in his throat.

“Oh, my Little Rabbit, you haven’t seen the half of it yet,” He whispers lustily, “And after that little treat you gave me back there, I assure you I’ll be giving you _lots_ of attention when I’m able.…”

He kisses me through our laughter and pulls back to look at my face while stroking my cheek.

“Let’s relax for the moment,” I whisper.  “I have a feeling we’re not at the end, yet, and being in your arms does my heart good….”

“Yes, my Darling,” he whispers.  “You give me courage, too.”

We lie together resting on the sand for a short while, his long fingers trailing lovingly through my hair and over my cheek.  He points to the swirls of stars above us and tells me stories of using the stars to navigate the seas in his travels.  He tells me of places he wants to take me; the shores, the music, the food, the sights and the seas. 

“How many languages can you speak?” I ask. 

“I’m fluent in Nevivonian, Vesuvian, and Prakran,” he begins, “I can converse reasonably well in Milovan, Galdebrine, Atapran and Hesperian, and can muddle through enough to get food and a place to sleep in a handful of others…. Are you well impressed?”

I laugh and press a kiss to his collarbone.

“I had a feeling….  At least this gives you the excuse to do all the talking when we travel, hmm?”

He laughs softly, his chest shaking beneath me, and kisses my forehead.

“I’m sure I’m up to the task.”

I settle deeper into his chest and he entwines our fingers, pulling my hand up to his mouth to kiss the mound of my thumb.  And then I feel it.  Magic, rippling in the water.  I press myself up from him and look over my shoulder at the sea.  

“Are you alright, Kitten?” he asks.

“Can you feel that, Julian?” I whisper, getting to my feet.

He must notice it, too, because he moves to stand up and stares searchingly at the sea.  The magic swells and ebbs like a breath.  The breeze swirls in my hair, electrified by a familiar presence.  When it fades, Asra is standing in the shallows, the easy waves lapping at his skirts.

“You made it!” he says joyfully.  I fly to his arms and he hugs me tightly.

“Asra,” I heave, “Oh, my Brother, are you alright?”

“Yes, Sister, I’m alright,” he whispers.  “I’m alright, don’t worry about me.”

“Excellent timing,” Julian says with a smile, approaching us.  “Are you here to take us back to our bodies?”

Asra’s relief gives way to concern.  It makes my stomach drop.

“I wish I could,” he says, “But I don’t know how, yet.  That’s part of why I asked you to meet me here.  I knew it would be a safe place for you to wait.”

Julian stiffens.  “How long will we need to wait?”

Asra spreads his hands and sighs.  “I don’t know.  I’m working on it, and I’ll solve it as soon as I’m able to…. I’m trying to make sense of what happened.”

“ _Have you come seeking guidance_?” Another voice asks welcomingly.  The three of us turn our head to the source, and a figure emerges from a copse of palm trees.  He is wrapped in heavy red robes and has the appearance of an anthropomorphic fox.  I’ve seen him before, smiling at me from a card.

“I have,” Asra answers him, “Ilya, Sevrina, meet the Magician.”

The Magician turns and regards us with a bright eye.  Julian suddenly seems a bit flustered and bows lowly for the sake of etiquette.

“It’s…. it’s an honour to make your acquaintance, you… your… Magicality?”

The Magician brings a hand to his chin and smiles with amusement before waving Julian up to standing again.  “I’ve less need for titles than most,” he assures.  “’Magician’ will do nicely.”

“Can you help us?”  Asra entreats.  “My friends are trying to get back to our world… We could use some guidance.”

“Perhaps I will be able to,” the Magician says, casting a glance to me.

“What happened to you two?” Asra asks.  “Faust told me the gist of it, but I would be better able to help if I knew the full story.”

Julian and I explain everything.  The courtiers conspiring to bring back Count Lucio, Valdemar’s trick, and the Devil’s offer.

Asra passes a hand over his head.

“Oh God…  So the Devil is the one pulling the strings…  Troubling… He must be telling Lucio what to do.”

“Why does he need Lucio?” Julian asks, “Why not do things for himself?”

“Your world and this world are meant to be separate,” the Magician explains.  “Some lines, even we Arcana can’t cross.  To act there, the Devil needs a different pair of hands…. Asra, what have his hands been doing?”

Asra shrugs.  “Running around, enjoying the party and being obnoxious.  Typical Lucio…. But he’s also asking about specific Masquerade guests.  Nadia’s parents, for instance.”

“Queen Satrinava and the Royal Consort?” Julian asks in surprise.  “I didn’t even know they were invited.”

The Magician nods.  “They are two of the last three pieces in play.  Once they have all been drawn to the palace, the Devil will make his move.”

“Who is the third?” I ask.

The Magician turns his head to look at me directly. 

“And supposing you know, what would you do with that information?”

I shrink under his gaze, which Julian notices.  He puts a comforting arm around me.

Asra pipes in.  “If I knew, I could…”

“Search the city wall to wall?” The Magician cuts him off.  “Is that the part you think you will play?”

“Then how can we stop the Devil?” I ask sheepishly.

The Magician meets my gaze again and spreads his hands.

“You can’t,” he says.  “Not as you are.”

I shrink back again.  Julian is getting impatient.

“Then at least tell us how to get our bodies back!”  He says, “You know how, don’t you?”

The Magician shakes his head, tutting.  “You’ve come looking for answers, but you’re not asking the right questions.  I cannot help you if you aren’t asking the right questions.”

Julian opens his mouth to retort, then stops.

“Not the right questions?” he mutters, “If _how do we get our bodies back_ isn’t the right question, then what should I be asking?  What should we be trying to do?”

The Magician flicks an ear, smiling.

“You’re searching,” he says measuredly, “But how do you expect to find anything when you yourselves are lost?  Scout can only lead you so far.”

“Scout?” I ask.  “Who is Scout?”

“The dog-headed guide,” the Magician clarifies.  “She is friend of the lost.  She can point you in the right direction, but in the end, if you don’t seek your purpose, it will not find you.”

On that maddeningly vague note, the Magician fades away into the air.

Julian looks at Asra with a furrow in his brow.

“Are they always like that?” he asks, irritated.

“Oh yes,” Asra says, “Sometimes they’re even less clear.”

“Well that’s fucking irritating…”

Asra sighs and spreads his hands.  “He did tell you something useful, though _.  Seek your purpose_. I—“

He freezes.

“Something’s happening at the palace,” he says.  “I have to go!”

“Wait,” Julian calls, “What about—“

Asra disappears with a flourish of his arm into a flash of light.

“—Pasha?” Julian sighs.

I put a hand on his shoulder and draw nearer to him.

“I’m worried, too,” I whisper.  Anxiety twists in my gut, and from the wretched look on Julian’s face, he feels the same way.

“I… I know she can take care of herself,” he says, “But what if…?”

I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.  With a shuddering sigh, he buries his face against my shoulder, his arms winding around my waist.

“Portia’s tough,” I say reassuringly.  “I don’t know if it’s even possible to get one over on her.”

Julian laughs softly.

“And she knows where to find a shovel in the palace!” He chuckles.

“I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her swing, that’s for sure.”

The both of us softly laughing, he kisses my forehead and pulls back to look into my eyes.

“Thank you, Sevrina,” he whispers.

Suddenly, we hear a bark.  Julian and I break away from each other, startled, and see Scout, the dog-headed guide we encountered before the Tower, bounding over a dune.  She skids down in front of us.  Her tail wags happily and she trots off, gesturing for us to be on our way.

We follow Scout down the beach until we reach what looks like the edge of the Magician’s realm.

Without looking down, she leaps.

I peer cautiously over the precipice.  Sand and water cascade into a hazy shimmer, like a giant heat mirage.  I can’t see Scout at all.

“We should follow her,” I say, and take a step forward.  Julian catches my arm.

“No, I don’t like this,” he mutters.  “I don’t like this _at all_.  Please.”

He looks terrified.  

“Maybe there’s another way down,” I suggest.

“Exactly what I was thinking, my Dear,” Julian says, surveying our surroundings and trying to hide his fear.  His eye catches something.

In the distance, large, dark shapes swirl through the air.

“Shall we have a look?” he asks, offering me his arm.

As we walk, the sky grows brighter and brighter.  A distant sun rises, and we can finally see clearly.

“Incredible!”  Julian exclaims now that we can see what had caught his eye, “I would have said impossible, and yet…”

Massive manta rays fly above us, their fins rippling like cloth against the bright coloured sky.  Julian’s eyes are wide, his mouth gaping open and turned up in a smile of amazement.  One of the rays circles and Julian cautiously reaches out, ever curious and fascinated, brushing the ray’s side as it flies past him.  It rolls over, exposing its belly, and flaps happily when he pats it.  Julian laughs and smiles, in awe. 

“This…. This is incredible,” he says, looking from the ray to me.  “I can’t believe this…”

A wave of happiness washes over me as I watch him, then a sense of friendly curiosity.

“I think… it wants to know where we’re going?” I say.

Julian gestures down over the edge to the ray.  “We’re going down there—can you help?”

The ray wiggles in giddy affirmation, then rolls back over and dips down.  Its back is broad enough to support the both of us.  Julian steps on first, then offers me a steadying hand.  Once we’re both securely on the creature’s back, it descends into the mirage.  There’s a curious sense of resistance, and then we’re through.  A sprawling vista opens up beneath us.  Far off in the distance, a lighthouse flashes intermittently.  Between us and the lighthouse, there’s a thick, tangled forest, and a glittering lake.

The ray comes down at the edge of the forest, and we hop off its back.

“Thank you,” we say to it, patting it gently before it swims happily back up into the air and out of sight.

Then we hear a bark.

Scout is pacing at the edge of the forest, waiting for us.  She shakes her walking stick at us, as if she’s scolding us. I bow my head apologetically, and ask her where we are going.  She points to the lighthouse in the distance and barks.

“Is that where this mysterious purpose is?” Julian asks a little sourly. 

Scout doesn’t answer, just turns with a huff and starts to walk, gesturing for us to follow.  We just follow her toward a pile of huge, mossy rocks.  In the centre of the rocks, a pitch-black tunnel leads underground.  A thick veil of spider webs chokes the tunnel.  Julian grabs my arm urgently.

“No, no—You aren’t going in there, are you?” He whispers, as Scout brushes aside the sticky webs and disappears into the darkness.

“We should follow her,” I say.  “She’s helping us get where we need to be.”

Trying to be reassuring, I take a step into the tunnel, peering into the darkness.  Gnarled roots dangle overhead, and dust drifts from the wall.  When I inhale, I smell damp and rot.  Ahead of me, I can hear Scout’s footsteps, and the tap of her walking stick.  I just have to trust that she knows the way.

“Sevrina, wait!”  Julian calls out in alarm, “Don’t you see those webs?  Whatever made them must be huge!  It could be dangerous and I…. I don’t want you to go down there.”

He looks so desperate for me to step out of the tunnel that it surprises me.  I step back out of it and go to him, putting a hand to the side of his face.  He clings to my arms, terrified.

“Julian,” I say softly.  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Please,” he whispers, begging me, “Please.  Don’t go in there.”

I hear Scout bark.  She reappears in the tunnel, looking confused, and then nods her head as if understanding.  With a sigh, she gestures for us to back away from the tunnel.

“There must be another way to the lighthouse, right?” Julian asks.

Scout is already leading us into the forest.  Julian keeps hold of my hand as we follow.  It isn’t long before we reach a humble dirt path.

“Much better,” Julian sighs, surveying the surroundings and happy there are no signs of danger.

Sunlight streams through the branches.  A gentle breeze stirs the leaves, and cools us down as we walk.  Up ahead, a cliff juts up from the floor, rising high into the air.  Scout motions for us to stop, and then she shrugs of her knapsack and starts unpacking it.  She shakes out a blanket and sits down for a well-earned break.

“Sevrina, look,” Julian says, that tone of wonder returning to his voice as he shakes my shoulder excitedly.  Giant jellyfish float through the air, drifting languidly alongside the cliff.

“That’s incredible,” he breathes, moving in to get a closer look.  “Amazing… It’s not just manta rays, it’s an entire ecosystem…. How does that work?  Why do they look like sea creatures?  Is it based on what we’ve seen before, or did they come from somewhere else?  Or maybe these animals just fly here?”

As he talks, waving his hands animatedly, he leans forward and loses his balance, and skids down on a tier of earth a few feet down onto a grassy dune.  He recovers and suggests we rest on that ledge, where we will have some privacy.  I look over at Scout, who is eating something, and she waves her hand at me in such a way as to give us permission.  I slide myself down onto the dune gently.  Julian flops down onto the grass and smiles at me.

“Come here,” he says, reaching up and pulling me down into the grass. I roll onto my back beside him and he scoots up against me, lifting himself up onto his elbow to look down over me.

“Are you alright?” I ask softly.

“Of course, Sevrina,” he says, “This is all just very strange, all this magic stuff… But I can handle strange.  I’m fine… It’s beautiful here,” he sighs, tenderly running the back of his knuckles along my jawline.  “Look…”

Sitting in the grassy dune, we have a marvellous view of the sky, glazed with pink and gold.

“Is it sunset already?” he asks, “It couldn’t be… it hasn’t been long.”

“Time passes strangely here,” I murmur, enjoying the sweet caress of his fingers across my jaw.

“Ah, yes,” he says, remembering I’ve told him so before, “If that’s so, then I’m glad to have the chance to take in the sight.  I always forget how beautiful it is.”

I laugh softly.  “Julian, you’re not even looking at the sky.”

In fact, he’s looking right at me.

“Aren’t I?” he teases, “Well, that’s only because you’re far more dazzling.”

“How long have you been saving that line, Julian?” I tease.

He flounders, his face going redder and redder.

“I just…. It’s… I….”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” I clarify with a laugh.

“Don’t scare me like that!” he shouts with a laugh, swooning dramatically as though I’d dealt him a mortal blow and then pulling me over onto him again, kissing and laughing.

The sun dips slowly behind the horizon, the clouds cast in purple and blue.  Finally, the last sliver of sunlight disappears.  Stars wink above us, a crescent moon hanging low in the sky. 

“Do you want to try some more magic?” I ask.  “We could make a ball of light.  It’s very easy to do.”

“Alright then,” Julian says, up for the challenge.  “What do I do?”

I kiss him quickly and then sit up, and motion for him to do the same.  He folds his long legs up underneath him and turns to face me.

“Hold up your hand like this,” I say, motioning for him to face his palm toward me.  I hold my palm a few inches from his. 

“Like this?”

“Perfect, Julian,” I say with a smile.  “Now concentrate on the space between our hands, and think of light.  Not fire—Just light.  Think of the glow, the colour of it…”

A swirling speck of white light coalesces in the space between our hands.

“Oh…” Julian mutters disbelievingly.

“Good,” I whisper.  “Now think of the size—Make it the size of a marble to start…”

With a little sputtering, the swirling light slowly expands and the corners of his mouth go up in wonder.

“Incredible,” he sighs, “Absolutely incredible...”

“That’s fantastic,” I say, beaming.  I withdraw my own magic slowly, but keep still my hand, and the glowing marble of light flickers and then steadies itself to a bright, stable glow.  He has no idea he is doing this on his own.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” I say, the focus in his eyes making me swell with pride.  “Can you expand it now to the size of an apple?”

The shape of the ball goes irregular, wavering on the edges, but slowly it expands.

“This is harder,” he says, but the look in his eye says he isn’t going to give up.

“That’s it—you’re nearly there,” I say softly.

The light continues to expand and once it reaches the size of my palm, the shape solidifies into a sphere again, glowing brightly, illuminating Julian’s determined face.

“Very well done,” I say.  “Now hold that light steady.”

He nods his head, and I slowly pull back my hand and let it rest in my lap.  His eyes, now with a cry of stress in them, dart between me and the light, which sputters and flickers irregularly.

“Sevrina, I can’t do it alone,” he says uncertainly.

“Oh yes you can, Julian—just focus.”

“No, Sevrina, look at it—I’m not strong enough.”

“Julian relax, focus on the light.”

He watches the light and tries to focus, but the light is unsteady.

“Sevrina...”

“Listen to my voice, Love,” I say encouragingly.  “You can do this.  I know you can… I withdrew my magic before I asked you to expand it.  You’re the one that has been making this light, and you don’t need me to do it.”

Julian looks at me in astonishment, but as he realizes I’m telling him the truth, the light steadies.

“Really?” he asks, a flabbergasted smile taking shape on his face.

“Yes, Love, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“That’s incredible!” He shouts delightedly, leaping over to take hold of my shoulders, not caring that the light goes out.  “How, Sevrina?”

“Everyone has magic within them,” I explain as he showers my cheeks with excited kisses, “You’ve just learned how to access it.”

He pulls me down on the ground with him, kissing me between peals of laughter, when suddenly we hear Scout huff a few feet above us.  She’s hiked her knapsack back onto her shoulder, and it’s time to set out again.  He kisses me one last time and we get to our feet and follow Scout hand in hand.

The moon hasn’t budged an inch, but it feels like we’ve been walking for hours by the time we emerge from the forest, and when we do, my stomach sinks.  The lake we saw earlier has grown into an ocean.  The lighthouse is a flickering speck on the horizon.  I exhale a sigh of frustration, but Scout points encouragingly towards a simple wooden pier.  A sailboat bobs gently on the calm water.  I take a step toward the boat, but Julian doesn’t follow in step with me—he seems distracted.  When I turn to beckon him, he is fixated on the beach.

“Are those seals?” he asks the air around him, then starts walking away from the boat down to the sand.

Something’s not right.

“Let’s just have a look, Sevrina,” he says, motioning me to follow.  Scout barks sharply, seeming to lose patience, and tries to usher him back onto the pier, but Julian sails past her and dashes down the beach.  With a deep, disappointed sigh, Scout plops herself down onto the sand and waits.

Feeling slightly awkward, I follow Julian down the beach.  When I catch up with him, he is watching the seals, whose skins twinkle with starlight, a reflection of the violet night sky above us.  The beach is peaceful and quiet, but Julian’s eyes are anything but.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he says under his breath, “Much better than all that danger…”

I look dubiously from the calm ocean to Julian.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

Julian scoffs.  “Of course not.  I just wanted to look at the beach.”

“Julian,” I sigh, “I can’t help if you shut me out like this….Please tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Bothering me?” He says with an air of fabricated confidence, “Why should anything be bothering me?”

“Julian, please don’t close off to me… I can’t bear it.”   My chin quivers and I start to cry. “If you shut yourself off from me…I can’t make it through here alone.”

Julian puts his arm around me.  For a long moment he’s quiet, and then he sighs.

“I’m terrified, Sevrina,” he admits.  He takes a deep breath, then steels himself and keeps talking.  “Don’t misunderstand—you’ve done so much to help me…. Guiding me, helping me with magic to navigate this strange world… But it’s been a lot to take in, and I’m still not used to this….And who knows what’s waiting for us at that lighthouse?  The Magician says to seek purpose, but what if we don’t like what we find?  Some burdens are too heavy to bear, even if we carry them together…”

“That’s a problem for future us,” I whisper comfortingly, petting his hair, “We will solve it when we know what we’re facing, but we can do nothing if we don’t know.”

Julian looks at me and the corners of his mouth turn up before his starts laughing.

“That’s been a working formula for us so far, hasn’t it?” He says.  “You’re right…. I’m worrying about problems that haven’t happened yet….  We don’t even know what we’re dealing with.  Maybe it won’t be as bad as I thought, and even if it’s that bad, we can handle it, can’t we?”

“Don’t forget we aren’t alone in this,” I say, clutching the lapels of his feathered coat.  “Asra is helping us. So is Portia.  I suspect so are Nadia and her sisters.  We can rely on our friends to help as much as they can.”

He nods slightly.

“I’m not used to asking for help,” he whispers.  “I’m not used to depending on others.”

“You’ll need to get used to it,” I say teasingly.  “I won’t leave you for anything.”

He grins and softly laughs.  “You and I will get through this together?”

I smile and nod.  “Nothing has beat us so far.  Not even death.”

He smiles and strokes my cheek, and kisses me.

Scout has had enough waiting and she barks as she approaches us, looking very harassed.  She looks at Julian with an impatient huff, and points back toward the pier authoritatively.  We follow her back to the pier and down to the boat, and Julian takes a better look, hopping onto the deck, and gives me a steadying hand as I board.

“I haven’t been aboard a boat like this in years, but if memory serves, I can sail it just fine,” he says, now determined.  Agile as a cat, he climbs up into the rigging, pulling on ropes until the sails unfurl.  Scout untethers the boat from the pier, and clambers onto the deck.  We drift off onto the open sea.

The sun is rising, but I can still see the flash of the lighthouse in the distance.  It’s so far that it would take hours to reach it if this were the real world, but now, the boat practically flies over the water, like an arrow shot from a bow.  As we get nearer, Julian looks up in disbelief.

“It looks exactly like the lighthouse back home in Nevivon,” he says, then smiles, “I haven’t seen it in so long… Sevrina, I’ll take you one day soon…”

We dock at another small pier.  Scout securely ties the boat to the posts, and sits down heavily on the dock, letting her little feet skim over the water, and waves for us to continue without her.

I turn to Julian and take his hand.

“Are you ready?” I ask softly.

He softly laughs, looking up at the lighthouse. 

“Ready to find our purpose?  I don’t think anyone is ever ready for that… But now is our time, isn’t it?”

I chuckle and squeeze his hand.

“No matter what our purpose, I have no doubt that your love will guide me,” he whispers.  “And with you as my North Star, I know I will never lose my way…”

I pull closer to him and he wraps his strong arms around me. I go on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzling my nose with his.

“Take a kiss for courage,” I whisper.  And he surrenders his lips sweetly, softly, mouth parting to touch his teasing tongue to mine.  When we part, he looks at me as if he is committing my every feature to memory.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“And I you,” he says, smiling.  He presses in for a last, quick kiss before breaking the embrace and taking hold of my hand.

“Let’s go in, then,” he says determinedly.

I push open the door and we step inside together.  We quietly climb the stairs up into the lighthouse until we reach the top, contemplating our mysterious purpose.  When we reach the top level, we observe that the lighthouse’s beacon, in the centre of the room is as extraordinary as the rest of this realm.  Thousands of tiny stars twinkle within it, but they are dim, flickering weakly.  They look like they’re on the edge of burning out.

Then, a feline figure with ginger fur emerges from behind the light, beaming warmly at us.  She is wrapped in a dress of blue silk, and in her arm is a large clay jug filled with water.  I have seen her face in Asra’s deck, as well.

“There you are,” she says happily.  “Welcome to my lighthouse.”

Julian’s caught by surprise.  “Excuse me, who are you?”

She laughs.  “Good question!  Any guesses?”  She casts a glance to me and I smile.  “You know, don’t you, Sevrina?”

“You’re the Star,” I answer, smiling.  She looks pleased.

“That I am.  Please don’t be shy—Welcome to my humble abode… I’ve been expecting you, although you seem to have taken the scenic route in getting here, hmm?”

Julian bows his head and flushes.  “That was my fault,” he says softly.  “I’m sorry…  It’s been a lot to take in.”

“Don’t worry!” the Star laughs, softly cuffing his shoulder.  “You made it in the end, that’s what matters.”

Julian relaxes bit by bit, at ease because of the Star’s gentle and friendly demeanour.

“Now you know,” she chortles, “You were never in danger.  I’m as harmless as can be.”

Julian starts.  “So the cliffs, the tunnel, the ocean….”

“Not dangerous,” she says matter-of-factly.  “My trials aren’t about facing great dangers or fighting monsters.  I help you to know who you are and where you’re going, and trusting in yourself to get there.  You’ve grown so much, Julian, and…”

She pauses, smiling wryly.  Julian looks totally lost.

“Well,” she continues, “You still have some growing to do.”

The Star tilts her jug, and the water that pours out twists through the air like ribbons, and then flows upward to form a sphere, suspended in mid-air.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Julian whispers.  “How did you do that?  What is it for?”

The Star smiles warmly at us.  “I’ll show you.”

The sphere ripples, revealing my shop.  I gasp.  In the image, Julian looms in the shadows, his old doctor’s mask fixed firmly to his face.

No… it’s not just an image.  It’s a memory.  The night Julian broke into my shop.

That night, we looked at each other as strangers, thinking we were meeting for the first time.

“I can show you all kinds of memories,” the Star says with a smile, idly batting at a ribbon of water, sending droplets of stars flying.  “You think a lot, don’t you, Julian?  With all the _what ifs_ floating around in your mind, there’s not room for your higher purpose to root.  So why are you so afraid?”

The water shimmers, bringing another memory to light.  Nadia watches as Lucio swaggers down the stairs. She stands tall, determined to face him head-on.  Across the ballroom, Asra’s mask can’t hide his expression of pure loathing.  Outside, Portia runs down a hallway, following Malak to Julian’s body.

The Star nods.  “Asra and Nadia.  They’re trapped in the palace, racing against time to stop Lucio and the Devil.  And Portia—you want to protect her, but she’s protecting you.  And of course…”

The water ripples again, and I see myself, separated from Julian by the bars of the dungeon lift.  The bars blur into the arena as Praetor Vlastomil looms above us, and the crowd cheers.  The arena blurs away into me shaking Julian awake on the table in the dungeon, which melts away to Julian embracing me in the bath before I showed him my scars, and the final image—still fresh in my memory, too—is of me standing on the beach when we arrived in the Magician’s realm. 

“Brave, determined Sevrina,” the Star says softly, “You’ve grown so much, learned so much and done so much.  What would she do for you, Julian?  What would you do for her?

“I’d do anything, everything,” he whispers, sounding shaken.  “I would die for her.”

“You’ve made it through the forest and over the ocean to find me,” the Star says to him encouragingly, “That takes profound courage.  But the real challenge is yet up ahead.  You can handle it, so I won’t lie.  Your purpose is dangerous.  You’ll be risking life and limb to make it through.  Are you ready for that?”

“Fuck,” Julian curses sharply, passing a hand over his hair.  “I knew it… I knew we weren’t going to like what we found up here.  I hate it when I’m right.”

He paces nervously in front of the water sphere, combing his fingers anxiously through his hair.

“You need to ask yourself a question, Julian,” the Star says.  “Why are you so afraid?”

“You’re asking Sevrina to put herself in danger!” he shouts, “Of course I’m scared—I’m petrified!  Oh, Sevrina, I should have sent you back with Asra…. Or had you stay in the Magician’s realm…  No, even earlier than that—I shouldn’t have let you get involved at all… If you get hurt…”

His eyes are welling up.

“I couldn’t bear for you to be hurt, Sevrina,” he says, heavy tears escaping his eyes, “I love you too much… I can’t let you do this…. I lost you once, and I couldn’t bear it if…”

He’s stopped pacing now and I step to his side.

“I love you, too, Julian,” I whisper.  I put a hand to the side of his face and he presses into my touch.  “I don’t want you to be in danger, either.  If we have to do this, we should do it together.”

He struggles for a moment before he speaks.

“I know… You’ve never wanted me to take all the risks by myself,” he says, “I just… I want you to be safe, Sevrina.  I want you safe, you’ve been through enough…”

I think I understand why the Star showed us those images.

“Oh, have faith, Julian,” I say, wiping his tears away.  “Faith in me, and in everyone else.  You’re not alone.  You will never be alone again.  We’re fighting for our future together…. Have faith in me.  I won’t let you down.”

He nods and embraces me tightly. 

“I… I’ll try,” he whispers into my hair.  “I swear I’ll try.”

After a moment in my arms, he takes a deep breath and steps back, squaring his shoulders.

“Alright,” he says, taking hold of my hand, “I’m ready.”

The lighthouse beacon flares brilliantly, the stars blazing to life.  The Star beams proudly at us.

“You see,” she says happily, “You’re stronger together. It looks like you’re finally ready to face the Devil.”


	19. The Moon

Julian gawks at her in disbelief.

“Could you…” he stumbles, “Could you repeat that?  I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

The Star looks him in the face and smiles.  “You’re ready to face the Devil,” she repeats steadily.

Julian frowns uncertainly.  “I did hear you correctly.”

“The Devil has been plotting for some time now,” The Star explains.  “He’s been making plans, sneaking around, making deals, all so that he can break down the barriers between your realm and ours. If that happens, it will spell out disaster for both sides, and it’s up to you to stop it.”

“Why us specifically?” Julian asks.

The Star laughs softly.  “I think you know that answer already—don’t you?  Sevrina, you’re the key to this.  You’re the only one that can stop the Devil, but you can’t do it alone.  You’re going to need help.”

The Star looks meaningfully at Julian, and he straightens up, looking to me.

“Save the world, eh?” He says in a manner trying to cast confidence over his fears, “You can count on me, Sevrina.  Always.  I’ll never let you down again.”

“Your powers need developing,” The Star says softly, putting one encouraging hand on each of our shoulders.  “You’ve begun to tap into them a little, but you still need more practice, and the best place to practice is a personal gateway.”

Julian looks at me with a questioning expression.  Asra has talked about personal gateways before…

“It’s a place magicians can access, where they’re closest to their own magic,” I say.  “With our bond being so strong, my gate should be an easy place for you to access your magic, too.”

The Star smiles, and looks to Julian, who is beginning to look determined.

“Being there will help you connect more to your own power,” she explains, “You will be able to build your confidence and banish your doubt.  Seeing as it’s such a personal space, I can’t tell you how to find it.  But if you look within yourself, you might realize that you already know the way.”

She beams confidently at me, and I find myself smiling back.

“Thank you,” I say softly.  “For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the Star says, embracing me, and then Julian.  “Take care of yourselves.  Don’t be strangers—you are always welcome here.”

 

The door at the base of the lighthouse opens into a snowy forest.  The ocean, the docked boat and Scout are nowhere to be seen.  Shivering, Julian buttons up his coat, fluffing his collar to block out the chill.

“I suppose this place doesn’t need to follow the rules of geography,” he says as he looks around in awe.  After a moment, he is chuckling to himself, smiling wistfully at the pristine white landscape.  He looks back to me, then suddenly he stops and his eyes go wide.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing past me.  I turn around to look.

“I don’t see anything—?”

A snowball hits me in the shoulder, scattering snow all over my back.  I yelp and whip around to see Julian doubled over in laughter.

“Julian!” I shout, half laughing.

“I couldn’t resist!” he cries.  “If you want to tell me off, well… Let’s have a snowball fight.  Winner takes all!”

From the look on his face, I can guess what kind of prize he’s thinking of.  I can’t back down from a challenge like that.  I scoop up a handful of snow.  Julian ducks for cover just as it whizzes at him, and it smacks harmlessly into a tree trunk.

“Come on Sevrina,” he says, still laughing, “You can do better than—”

My second snowball catches him in the shoulder before he can finish his sentence.  Julian retaliates with a volley of his own, and soon the air is full of snowballs and laughter.  I lean out from behind the tree I’m hiding behind, making myself an irresistible target.  As I predicted, Julian takes the bait, popping out of cover with a snowball at the ready.

“There you are!” He calls.

Before he can say another word, I hurl a snowball at him with all my strength.  It catches him in the chest and explodes into a shower of iridescent sparkles.  

“I’ve been hit!” He cries, swooning dramatically, “A lethal blow!  But you know what they say… If you’re going to go out, go out in a blaze of glory!”

Julian rushes my tree and though I continue pelting him with snowballs, he doesn’t stop.  I have just a moment to brace myself before he tackles me into the snow

“That’s cheating!” I squeal through my laughter.

“All’s fair in love and war, Sevrina!”

Still breathless with laughter, he leans closer.

“About that prize,” he says with an impish look in his eye.

I reach up, hooking my hand around the back of his neck and pull him down to me the rest of the way.  His laugh melts into a groan against my mouth.  His hand slides up my thigh under the hem of my tousled skirts, but his touch is cold and I can’t supress a shiver.  Julian immediately pulls back, looking apologetic.

“Sorry,” he whispers.  “I should have realized how cold my hands would be.”

“Oh, I’ll warm you up,” I purr, turning the tables on him. He blinks and lets out a startled huff of laughter.

“Shouldn’t that be my line, Sevrina?” he asks, still chuckling.  “But yes, it is a very good idea… Yes, let me just…”

He leans down and I wrap my arms around him as our lips meet again.   The air is crisp and chilly around us, but I feel warm.  A deep sense of contentment spreads through my whole body.  Julian brushes feather-light kisses along the line of my jaw, sighing happily.

“You know,” he says lowly, “Sometimes this… This happiness… It still feels so surreal.  I never thought my heart would feel so full again…”

I look up at him with longing.  He kisses me quickly.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“And I am so in love with you,” he says through a broad smile.

The cold is getting the better of me at last.  I can’t supress a shiver, and Julian notices immediately.

“You’re cold, Sevrina,” he mutters.

“Don’t worry,” I say.

Julian helps me to my feet.  I run my hands over our clothing, and a flicker of magic whisks away the moisture and leaves us warm and dry.

“Ah yes, that clever trick,” he says with a broad grin, “You’ll teach me that one, won’t you?”

I nod and he leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek.

“Now, about this gateway of yours,” he says, “Any leads?”

The Star said I needed to look within myself to find the way.  When I call up my magic, it suffuses my body with familiar warmth.  Somewhere in the distance, I can feel something resonating with me, as if my magic is calling to its own echo.  That must be it.

“I can feel it,” I say.  “It’s that way.”

I point into the distance, towards a mountain range.

“I will follow you, Sevrina,” he says.

Our course decided, we set off.  The wintry forest is almost silent, save for the sound of our footsteps crunching in the snow.  It doesn’t feel like we’ve been walking for long when we emerge on the shore of a frozen lake.  The icy surface is broken by the whorls and spikes of massive waves, frozen mid-break.  The woods to either side are impassably dense.  The only way forward is over the ice.

“Let’s see,” Julian mutters.  “Ah, here.  Use this to test the ice before you step onto it.”

He hands me a fallen branch, fairly straight and sturdy enough for me to lean on, and looks around another moment before he finds one for himself.

“Stay close, Sevrina,” he says.  “Careful, now.  Slow and steady.”

Gingerly, I step out onto the frozen surface, probing ahead of me with the stick.  The Ice is beautifully clear, and I can see a hint of deep blue through it, where the water is still liquid.  Julian and I move slowly, staying within arm’s reach of each other.  Movement below catches my eye—a vast, dark shape slides languidly through the water, far below the ice we walk on.  Though I watch it carefully, it never gets closer.  Gradually, it fades from view, diving to some unknown depth.

We walk for what feels like hours before we reach the far shore, just as night falls.  It’s a relief to set foot on solid ground again.  Ahead of us, the mountains reach for the sky, their snowy peaks lost in clouds.

When I let my magic spread out again, I hesitate.

“I can’t feel it anymore,” I exhale in frustration.

“Strange,” Julian whispers, putting a comforting arm around me.  “But it was coming from up ahead?”

I nod and indicate with a point.  “Yes, it was coming from that direction.”

“So if we keep going, we should find it sooner or later,” he reasons.  He kisses my forehead and smiles at me encouragingly.  “Let’s keep going,” he says.  “We’ll find it.  Don’t fear.”

I smile back to him and nod. 

He forges ahead and I follow, through the trees and up the mountainside.

“It must be somewhere up…” Julian goes silent, taking in the sight before him. “…here,” he says after a beat.

I emerge from the treeline just behind him and see what it was that made him speechless.

A door stands by itself, surrounded by undisturbed snow.

“It looks just like the door to your shop,” he whispers, dumbfounded.  A brief surge of homesickness overtakes me as I approach the door.  It’s carved of the same wood as the door of the shop, and the air around it is warmer than our frigid surroundings.  I can smell the herbs I always have hanging up to dry in the shop, with a whiff of smoke from the wood burning stove...  I stretch out a hand, resting it on the wood.  It even feels the same.

The door suddenly swings violently open and chains whip out from inside the gateway, wrapping around my arms and legs like hot tentacles.  I scream and Julian charges the door shouting my name.  I catch a glimpse of him getting tangled up in the chains before we’re both dragged into the open gateway.  Everything goes black.

 

I’m a student of the magical arts, a resident of the city of Vesuvia.  Tonight, when I leave my shop, I don’t bother to lock the door behind me.  There’s no point.  No one will come.

I drift through the empty streets, alone.  Around me, the buildings slowly crumble into dust and ash. Flakes of paint swirl in the air.  The canals are full of red, red water.

Shouldn’t I be somewhere else?

No, I belong here…  Here, where there is only the sound of the wind, and distant weeping.  Here where there is not a soul on the streets, where a stroke of red paint stands out shockingly against every second or third door in warning.

I walk aimlessly through the streets, never seeing another soul, and find my way down to the docks.  From here, I can see the Lazaret.  It looms dark in the distance, a monument to the city’s failures.  There is only one boat, moored at the pier.  It’s waiting to take me where I belong.  My feet carry me forward to it.  A plague doctor stands in the bow, his birdlike mask a striking countenance in the moonlight. 

He’s waiting for me…  Doesn’t he seem somehow familiar?

“Julian?” I whisper.

No…  Who…  Who is that?

The question rattles something loose in my head.  A simple question.

How did I get here?

That’s easy, I came from my shop… And before that?

Where was I before that?  Why can’t I remember?  I was in…. I was in….

The sense-memory surfaces slowly.  A brisk, chilly breeze.  Fresh snow crunching under my feet.  Spindly, dark trees.  A snowy forest, somewhere far, far away. 

And a loving man holding my hand.

I wasn’t in Vesuvia, and I wasn’t alone.

The plague doctor freezes, standing as still and silent as a statue in the boat, and then the body wriggles and writhes bonelessly under its clothes, dissolving into a swarm of red beetles.  They skitter away, leaving the mask and dark coat in the boat.  The oppressive cloud in my head lifts slightly.

 _Julian_.

Of course I know who Julian is!

He was with me in the snow…. Where is he now?

I have to find him—the real him.  We have to get out of here.  He’s somewhere ahead of me, over the water—I can feel it.  There’s nothing else for it—I get into the boat and start rowing.

A thick fog rolls in, so dense and opaque that I can barely see my own hands in front of me.  Trusting the faint pull tugging me onward, I row and row until the boat bumps into something… An island?

The moment I set foot on dry land, the trees lurch forward toward me and their branches seize my limbs, immobilizing me.  They carry me onward to a small, round clearing… there’s a lamp post…. Doesn’t this feel somehow familiar?

Then I see him—Julian stands in a circle of light, speaking to a misty figure with the head of a bird.

“Indecision… introspection… inaction,” the bird-headed man says, “ _They will serve you forever_.”

His voice echoes as if it’s coming from a great distance.  The syllables warp and distort.

“You stand between realms,” he continues, “But there is only one road for you.”

“Then it’s not much of a choice,” Julian replies.

What?

“There’s nothing left for me back there,” he asserts. 

Julian walks deeper into the misty forest, and the mangrove branches finally release me.  Panic seizes me… I can think of nothing else.  I run after Julian, but the fog is so thick and damp that it feels heavy and almost sticky on my skin.

“Julian, wait!” I cry out.  I can’t reach him.  I stretch out a hand towards him as the fog closes around his back.

Where did he go?

Was that a glimpse of his auburn hair, or just a figment of my imagination?  I can’t see Julian at all anymore, but he’s just up ahead—he must be.

“Julian!”

It’s been minutes.  Hours.  Days?

Where is he?  Where am I?

No…

No, this isn’t how it happened…

I slow to a walk and concentrate on that thought, wiping the tears from me cheeks and fighting the lethargy in my limbs and my mind.  I drag forth a memory.

I’ve been here before.  I saw Julian talking to the Hanged Man in this realm.  But he didn’t stay here.  No—he chose to come back.  He chose life.  This isn’t right.  This isn’t _real_.

A breeze stirs my clothes before a great gust of wind whips around me, blowing away the fog.  A familiar structure emerges in front of me.  It stands on a lonely island, waiting oh so patiently for me.

The lift to the dungeon, where Julian laboured to find a cure…  The place he confessed his love for me… The gate is open.  It won’t stop me.  I can sense him down there, the real Julian.  I need to go deeper.

The door clangs open at the bottom of the shaft.  When I step through, I feel a jolt and for the first time since I opened my eyes at the shop, my mind feels clear.

Dozens of rusty-red handprints line the walls.  Most are large enough to belong to adults, but lower down, they’re small enough to be children’s.  Yet, when I look closely, the details fade into a haze.

I’m dreaming.  I’ve been dreaming this whole time.  But while this place is also a dream, it’s not my dream. 

It’s Julian’s.  He’s near…

The dungeon in my memory is empty, cold, with only abandoned tools and stains left behind.  But now, bodies are piled high in the corners and the crumbling walls weep ichor.  The office doors bang open and closed in a silent wind.  Red beetles swarm over the walls, clicking mutinously.

Then I see him, huddled over a table, talking frantically to himself.

“No, no, no, no, this isn’t… This can’t be… Why isn’t it working?”

The person on the table coughs violently, sputtering blood from a foaming mouth, and struggles to sit up.

“Julian,” she chokes.

Oh, Gods…

She’s wearing my clothes.  My body.  My face.  My voice.  My eyes—the sclera dyed crimson.  But it’s not me.  It’s not me.  It’s not me.  It’s not me.  _It’s not me._

“It’s not me!” I scream as loud as I can, but my voice dies in my throat.  No matter how hard I try to scream, I make no sound, and he can’t hear me.  I rush to Julian’s side and try to pull him away, but my hands pass harmlessly through him.  He can’t even see me.

“It’s your fault,” the woman on the table chokes, “Asra was right—You…. You let this happen to me!”

“Sevrina, no,” he says, cradling her head and petting her hair, frantic and desperate to comfort her, “No, that’s not… I didn’t….  Please, just lie back down, stay still.  I’ll fix this, I promise…”

“You can’t!” she shrieks, “You can’t fix this, Julian!  You’re a worthless, miserable failure!  I despise you!”

“No, Sevrina,” he pleads, the panic in his eyes undisguisable, “Please, Dearest, stay calm… I’ll make you well again, I swear… And then you and I can go away together and…”

“As if I’d go away with you!” She screams, “You’re pathetic!  You mean nothing to me…!”

As she continues to abuse him, her words are swallowed up by blood in her throat, gurgling and choking until she begins to convulse.  Red beetles begin to pour out of her mouth until they swarm all over my nightmarish double, faster than Julian can swat them away.

“No!” He screams desperately, “Get away!  Get away from her!”

When he finally clears them away, there’s nothing left.  Not even a body.

“No!” he wails in panic, “No, no, no…. This can’t be happening!  Sevrina!”

All at once, from the shadows of the room, three familiar figures emerge with blood-red sclera, blotchy skin, and malice in their glare.  Asra, Portia and Nadia surround Julian and stare at him balefully.

“She died because of you!” Asra shouts, “How can you ever claim you loved her when you did this to her?  Wasn’t it enough that you got her killed once?  You’re inhuman!”

“No,” Julian says, shaking his head, “I tried to help, I…”

“I was fine without you!” Portia cries, her red eyes bubbling over into bloody tears, streaking her cheeks scarlet.  “We were all better off without you!  Mazelinka was right—you should never have come back to Vesuvia!  You’ve ruined everything!”

“Pasha, I’m sorry…. I….”

Nadia puts a protective arm around Portia and puts herself between her and Julian.

“Just run, Doctor,” she says with a withering gaze, “Run from your mistakes, like you always do.  You’re the most selfish, useless, undependable man I’ve ever encountered.  Sevrina is better off dead than with you.  Get out of my city.”

They close in around Julian, their accusing voices blending into a malicious cacophony of accusations, insults and threats.  Clutching his head, Julian bolts from the main room and into the safety of his office.  As he does, the dungeon twists and blurs around us.

Instead of an office, through the door is a very familiar room.  Wallpaper peels from the walls in long, curling ribbons.  The drapery flutters without any wind.  Portraits of Count Lucio crowd the walls, dozens of angles of him as a young man, healthy and triumphant.  But when I look closer, I see that the painted figure is a wretched, withering husk, and the frames are charred at the edges.

Julian comes to a halt at the side of the bed, wide-eyed and breathing hard.  His eyes narrow into a glare of rage.

“ _You_ …!” He snarls.

“What do you want, _Jules_?” Lucio says in a tone of fathomless annoyance. He looks haggard, unwell, and crazed.  The sclera of his eyes are crimson.  His skin prickled by heat and fever, discoloured around his eyes.  His white-blond hair is plastered against his brow, soaked with perspiration. 

“Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep, _Jules_?  It’s almost time for my party.”

_You can still save them, Doctor._

A mysterious voice from an unseen source calls to Julian from the dark corners of the room.

“I… I can?” Julian asks, looking visibly shaken.

_Yes…You know how to cure the plague.  You could stop this here and now._

The tone of the voice turns insidious in its silkiness, a soft, malignant laughter slipping through its decorum.

_It would be so easy, wouldn’t it?  He’s so weak… So delusional… So pathetic.  You know what you have to do, so do it, Doctor._

I try to shout a warning, to pull Julian away, to do something, anything, but this isn’t my nightmare.  I can’t do anything to reach him.

“I… I can’t,” Julian breathes, looking terrified, “I _can’t_.  He’s helpless, and he….”

_He was a murderer before you met him.  He will murder again if he lives.  Think of your friends.  Your loved ones, how they are suffering…. Think of your poor, poor Sevrina…._

Julian’s distress doubles at the utterance of my name, and he whispers it to himself a few times, steeling his nerves.

“No,” He says, “No, that’s…That’s wrong.  Sevrina….She’d never want me to do this…. And in the dungeon, she’d… She’d never say those things to me.”

_Wouldn’t she? Then why did she?_

Julian shakes his head, wiping fiercely at his face.

“No,” he asserts, fighting back, “Never…. She loves me.  She wants to be with me.  She’s fought so hard to save me… She’d never say those things….  And neither would Pasha.  Or Asra, or Nadia…. _None_ of them would say those things to me…. I regret so many things, I’ve made so many mistakes, but I’ve changed.  I can grow, I can learn.  I’m not the same man I was back then… and I’m not a murderer!”

Julian takes a step back from the bed, and finally my voice obeys me.

“Julian!”

Startled, Julian looks around.  Our eyes meet, and the room disintegrates around us.

When my vision clears, I’m looking up at the ceiling of… my shop?  I shake off my vertigo and sit up.  It looks like my shop, but it can’t be… Everything is cold, the jars and counters are rimmed with frost, but most importantly, I’m awake.  Everything is solid, crisp and _real_.

Julian is next to me, slumped against the counter.  He groans weakly.

“Julian?” I whisper, pulling myself over the floor to the space at his side.  I place my hand on the side of his face.  “Julian, wake up,” I urge.

His eyes fly open, and he bolts upright.

“Sevrina!” He breathes in astonishment.  He lurches forward and takes my cheeks in his hands, studying my face intensely.  The relief in his expression is nearly painful.  He begins to weep unabashedly.

“It’s… It’s you, it’s really you,” he whispers, “You’re here, you’re…. you’re…”

His voice breaks on the last word.  He’s trembling all over, from more than just the cold.  I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.  With a choked gasp, he wraps me in a hug so tight I can feel the frantic rushing of his heart through my whole body.

“Sevrina…. Sevrina, you’re safe, you’re s _afe_ —”

Julian crumples against me, shaking and sobbing.  I hold him tightly and murmur gentle reassurances against his hair.

“I’m safe,” I say, “You’re safe, we’re together… Everything is going to be alright.  I’m here.  It was only a dream.  It wasn’t real…”

Shuddering, he lifts his head slightly, and looks at me with a pained expression.

“You…You had the nightmares too?” he asks.

I nod, running my fingers gently through his hair in attempt to calm him.

“Will you tell me….what did you see?” he asks weakly.  “You don’t have to…”

“Shh, it’s alright,” I whisper, kissing his cheeks.

Now that I’m awake, the nightmares have faded into a dreamy haze.  I recount what I saw as if they were just a story.  When I finish, Julian isn’t trembling as much anymore.  Even so, he takes a moment longer to begin to speak.

“I dreamed…” He says softly, “I dreamed about the storm.”

“The storm?”

“The shipwreck,” he says softly, clarifying.  “When Pasha and I were children… In the dream, the storm ripped her out of my arms.  I woke up alone on the beach…I was looking for her, looking everywhere, and I couldn’t find her.  Her cottage was abandoned, everything overgrown, the roof falling in, nothing left.  I went inside, and then, somehow I was in the palace dungeon.  I…”

He falters, and I put a hand reassuringly on the side of his face.  He takes a moment, then draws a deep breath and continues.

“I… I thought I saw you, the r _eal_ you, at the end.”

“It was me,” I whisper.

He laughs shakily, wiping his face.

“Seems like that’s becoming a running theme, doesn’t it?  How… how much did you see?”

“Everything in the dungeon… and Lucio’s room.  I’m sorry, Julian, I tried so hard to break through but I couldn’t…”

“It’s alright, Sevrina,” he whispers, a wobbly smile forming, “I… I broke through on my own, didn’t I?  By reminding myself of the truth… There was a time when I wouldn’t have been able to break free… Those horrible things they said….I know where they come from.  I told myself the same things so many times I… I started to believe them.  But then I met you a second time, and you’re helping me to unlearn all the lies I’ve told myself…. You haven’t given up on me…”

The tears stream down his face once more.  I smooth my hands over his cheeks.  His smile is genuine, though it trembles at the corners.

“I’m not the same man I was three years ago,” he whispers. “You’ve shown me how to change…. I’m better than I was.  Stronger….”

I lean forward, resting our foreheads together, and Julian closes his eyes, bending close to me.  We hold one another a long while in quiet, saying nothing more, the presence of the other’s comforting embrace saying all that needs to be said.

Julian’s hands and heartrate are steady when he finally stirs, mumbling something under his breath in Nevivonian.

“ _Vykhodi za menya_ , Sevrina,” he mumbles.

“What?” I whisper.  He laughs softly.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “Thank you… I feel better, don’t you?”

I feel drained, but I’m nowhere near as shaky as when I first woke up.  I smile at him.

“I’m alright,” I say softly.  “But seeing the shop, I… I just want to go home…. I want to go home where it’s safe…  I want to take you with me and sleep for days…”

Julian kisses me on the forehead.

“Then we should probably figure out where we are,” he says softly as we look around.  “This isn’t your gate, is it, Sevrina?”

“No,” I reply, “The gate we found on the mountain must have been a trap.”

This place has a strange, cold feeling.  It’s almost familiar.

Julian suddenly grabs my arm, startled by a sound I didn’t hear.

“What was that?” He whispers.  “It came from the back room.”

The two of us get to our feet.

“Stay close, Sevrina,” Julian whispers, keeping me just behind him as we cautiously approach the back room together.

Julian draws back the curtain.  There is no one there, but on the table is a single card.

“Huh,” Julian sighs.  “Care to do the honours?”

I step into the room and turn the card over.

“Death, reversed.”  The card is cold and distant, and all I can hear is a fading echo of some distant bell.  It’s the same energy as the shop itself.  “We’re in Death’s realm,” I whisper.

Julian looks at me with a sudden alarm on his face.

“No, no, Julian—the Death Arcana. We’re not dead,” I clarify, but before I can explain further, we’re interrupted by a voice.

 _And such a pity that is.  My, my, my_.

I jump, looking around frantically for the source of the voice.  Julian puts a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“Show yourself!” Julian demands.

_If you insist._

I whirl around to confront the stranger, and flinch back in surprise.

Quaestor Valdemar stands in the open doorway.  They step inside, and the door swings shut.

“You’re both awake?”  They say, “And in possession of all of your faculties?  My little welcoming gift should have snapped your minds like twigs.  Perhaps it needs further refinement.”

“Valdemar!” Julian gasps, “What are you doing here?

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Valdemar says with surprise.  “You are in my realm, after all.”

“Your realm?” Julian asks, “You’re the Death Arcana?”  His shock seems real, but to my ear it rings just a little hollow.  Is he… fishing for information?

“Don’t be silly,” Valdemar tuts, “If I were one of _them_ , I would never be able to leave.  Well, I suppose it’s not technically my realm.  But Death can’t do much of anything, these days, so I’ve taken over.”

“If you’re not one of the Arcana, then… what are you?” Julian asks.

“Oh, good question,” Valdemar chuckles, “What do your cards tell you, Magician?”

I’m still holding the Death card in my hand.  It whispers to me in a voice silvered with frost.  The real Death Arcana sounds nothing like Valdemar, but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re connected, somehow.

“Death, upright, is about change.  Transformation.  Endings, and beginnings.  But reversed, it can mean resistance to change.  Stagnation.”

“Goodness, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” Valdemar tuts, “Why would I ever want to change?  Humans are so fragile, so very breakable.  But I’m not.  Not anymore.”

I rack my brain, trying to recall if I’ve ever heard of anything like this.

“Well?” Valdemar presses, “Any guesses?”

“I…. I don’t know what you are,” I say.

“Disappointing, but not very surprising,” Valdemar says.  “Few people know anything about the process.  _He’s_ made sure of that.”

“He..?” Julian asks.

“The Devil, of course,” Valdemar chuckles.

It sends a chill down my spine.  I remember the Devil and Valdemar, standing side-by-side, in the palace garden.

“So it was the Devil who tricked us,” Julian says.  “And he sent us here?”

Valdemar laughs softly to themselves.  “Did you only just figure that out?”

“Then you really are one of his servants,” Julian scowls.

“Don’t be crass,” Valdemar says snidely, “We’re _colleagues_.”

“And the other courtiers you were working with?” Julian presses, “Volta, Vlastomil, Vulgora…are they _colleagues_ too?”

Valdemar laughs, high and thin.  “They might like to think they’re on the same level as me, but oh, no…It takes a long time to become this powerful, and none of them have managed it.”

“If you’re so powerful,” Julian says with a cocky laugh, “Why does the Devil have you do his dirty work? Is he afraid of us?”

“And why would he be afraid?” Valdemar scoffs.  “You can’t possibly kill him.  Not with your pathetic humanity intact.  If you were like me…”

Valdemar pauses.  I get the feeling that they’ve said too much.

“I tire of this,” they say.  “I suppose I should wrap things up… I admit, I’m curious—I’ve never killed anyone already separated from their body before—this should be fascinating.”

Adrenaline and magic alike surge through my veins, responding to Valdemar’s threat.

Suddenly there’s a sound.  Was it a voice?

“Are you planning to fight back?” Valdemar says with a wicked laugh, “Please do.  It’s more fun that way.”

I square my shoulders and Julian begins to panic.

“Sevrina, no, you can’t fight them!”

“I have to try!” I shout.

Julian looks at me in a moment of awe and then a strange, buzzing, rasp echoes through the shop. 

It’s coming from Valdemar. 

When I look at them, I flinch with horror.

Valdemar’s body wavers uncertainly at the edges, overlaid on a shape I can’t even begin to understand, as though their human form is merely a veil, covering something… something _other_.  My mind struggles to make sense of what I’m seeing.  A fierce, sharp pain blossoms behind my eyes.

Again I hear that rasping…Is Valdemar laughing?

Julian grips my arm, and I tear my eyes away from Valdemar with an effort.

“Sevrina, I believe in you,” Julian says firmly. “Do what you need to do.”  Somehow he musters up a grin.  “Fuck them up!”

I focus, pushing past the pain, and listen, searching for the voice I heard within me.  The voice rings in my mind, suddenly loud and clear.  It’s _my_ voice, though it doesn’t speak in any words I understand.  It’s a whisper of salty air, a flash of sun on the ocean, a promise of a faraway horizon.  And Julian.  Stirring slowly in his arms as morning light streams through my bedroom window.  The comforting warmth of his hand in mine.  The sweet perfume of peonies.  A breath of freedom.  The magic surges up through me, pouring down my arms and into my hands.  When I look at Valdemar again, a bright pain lances through my head, as though I’m trying to look at the sun.  An undulating mass twitches and judders in front of me, their outline fluctuating unevenly.  Their surface boils, bubbling like molten rock, revealing clusters of eyes and teeth and rib-bones emerging from within their mass, then dissolving back into it. 

But I can see something else.  The shadows of chains, densely wrapped around Valdemar’s form.  Valdemar reaches one (or maybe more?) long, terrible, blade-like limb towards us.  Closer… closer…. Until they’re just close enough.  I lash out, grabbing hold of a chain. 

For a moment, it feels almost cold, and then it _burns_.  White-hot agony searing up from my hands and into my body, driving all other thoughts from my mind.  Julian catches hold of me while I stumble, holding me up.  Abruptly, the agony lessens, and I can breathe past the stabbing pain in my chest.  In the same moment, Julian doubles over, his expression twisting with an echo of my pain, but he doesn’t let go.  He grips tighter. He’s still holding on.

A single link of the chain snaps.  Valdemar goes suddenly, totally still, and then they spasm violently, as some of their mass disintegrates, dissolving into nothing.  I realize, to my horror, that the chains are the only thing holding Valdemar together.  Then, the pain fades.

Without another word, Valdemar flees, vanishing into thin air.

Death’s realm is silent for all of five seconds before Julian lets out a triumphant yell.

“Sevrina, that was amazing!” he cries.  He kisses me and spins me around in a circle, but we both wobble and stumble, nearly falling.

“Oof, that took a lot out of the both of us, I guess,” Julian says softly, helping me to regain my footing, “But you did it!  You made Valdemar turn tail and run!  If they hadn’t run, you would have kicked their ass for real!”

As much as I hate to puncture Julian’s joy, I don’t think that’s true.

“We got lucky, Julian,” I sigh.  “If they’d stayed, it would have gone very badly for us.”

He sobers up for a moment, considering that possibility, then shrugs slightly.

“But they didn’t,” he says, “They didn’t, and we’re both safe thanks to you.  Don’t belittle your victory.”

I move into his arms and hold tight to him.  I’m trembling.

“That was…. What was that?” Julian asks.  “For a moment I thought I saw you grab something... Chains?”

“Yes,” I whisper.  “The same chains as the ones that pulled us into the fake gate.”

I can still feel a shadow of that searing heat on my hand.  That oppressive, claustrophobic energy… It was the same as the Devil’s.

“I think those chains are a part of the Devil’s power,” I say softly.

“And you broke one of the links,” Julian says encouragingly.

I still don’t really know how I did it.  I didn’t know I _could_.

Julian opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again.

“If you can break the Devil’s chains,” he says, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I manage to nod, staring down at my hands.

“This must be what the Star meant, how I can stop the Devil,” I whisper.  I look up at Julian to see his eyes, filled with questioning, but with hope flickering in them fiercely. 


	20. The Sun:  Release and Respite

“I can stop the Devil,” I repeat, then look down at my hands again.  Repeating it doesn’t make it feel any more real, but the facts remain.  I broke a link of the Devil’s chains, and Valdemar fled.

“Sevrina,” Julian says, stepping closer and taking my hands with concern, “I believe you can… The evidence certainly says so… But using that power nearly knocked you flat…  How are you going to use it on the Devil without harming yourself?”

I look up into Julian’s face, worry wrought across his expression, and sigh.

“I… I don’t know,” I concede.  “I don’t fully understand this power, yet.”

 _Perhaps I can be of assistance,_ a voice calls from an unseen source.  

I scream and jump like I’ve been doused in cold water and Julian sweeps me into his arms protectively as we scan the shop for the source of the voice. 

“That’s not Valdemar,” Julian says, seeming to know what I’m thinking.  He passes his hand over my head calmingly.  “Don’t worry, Darling, it’s not them… It’s not them…”

I nod and still myself in his embrace, hanging on his every word of reassurance as I catch my startled breath.  We still can’t see anyone—who spoke?

_Oh goodness me, have I frightened you?  That wasn’t my intent. My apologies._

The words seem to come from everywhere at once, backed by a strange, crystalline echo.  It’s oddly familiar, but I can’t place it. 

_Don’t be alarmed… Are you uncomfortable in the realm?  I always forget how easily human bodies get cold. Please allow me to take you somewhere more comfortable._

“Hold on,” Julian calls out, “Wait just a—”   

The snowed-in shop blurs around us.  Vertigo makes my head spin, and Julian holds tight around my waist for stability when he feels my balance sway.  Suddenly, our surroundings reveal a new location, at first blindingly bright.  The sun beats mercilessly down on us, its harsh rays almost a tangible weight on my shoulders.  I shield my eyes and see sand, dry, cracked earth and boulders stretch endlessly in all directions.  Scraggly cacti cling tenaciously to life.

_Are you warmer?_

“A little too warm,” Julian says, mopping his brow with the back of his glove.  “Can you—”

_Say no more!  I know just the place to put you at ease._

“Wait!” Julian calls.  “You’re very accommodating, but would you just… Let Sevrina pick where to go?  Is that a thing you can do?”

 _Oh_. The voice pauses, as if contemplating something it hasn’t considered. _That would be simpler, wouldn’t it?  Very well, where would you like to go?_

Still gathering my bearings, I try to conjure up the most reassuring place I can think of.

“Julian… How about Portia’s cottage?” I ask softly.

“Yes, my Sweet One,” He says softly. “That would be very comforting indeed...”

_Wonderful.  Describe it for me, if you would?_

It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen Portia’s cottage, but I smile at the comforting memory that shines clearly in my mind.

“It’s warm and quiet and peaceful… There’s sunshine through the windows, and clean, white linen… The smell of fresh flowers, and an overgrown garden outside… Tools against the wall… then sound of birds…”

As I describe it, the realm around us begins to reshape itself, slowly forming walls and furniture.  It looks just like the real thing, from the tools leaning against the wall to Pepi curled up asleep on the couch.  I half expect Portia herself to come bustling in to greet us.  For a moment, my heart swells and I feel emotional.  Julian sweeps his long arms around me reassuringly.

“Much better,” he whispers, and kisses my forehead.  “Good choice, Sevrina.”

Pepi’s ears perk, then she gets up and stretches, turning to look at us.  She paws demandingly at Julian’s leg until he stoops and picks her up, cradling her against his chest and absent-mindedly scratching behind her ears as he looks around.

“Hello?” he calls out, “Er… mystery voice?  Are you still there?”

Suddenly Pepi speaks.  “Yes, I’m right here.”

Shocked, Julian instinctively flings the cat away from us in alarm.  They land on their feet, shaking themselves all over and looking vaguely indignant.

“You—that is…. Who are you?” Julian shouts.

The cat laughs softly.  “Don’t be alarmed.  I am Death.”

Julian draws me against him again in a protective gesture, but I pat his arms reassuringly.

“Julian, I don’t believe they mean us any harm,” I whisper.  “In the Arcana, Death doesn’t spell out disaster.”

Julian looks between me and the cat.

“She’s right,” Death says softly, “I won’t harm you.  I’m sorry I startled you—I thought this shape would put you at ease.  Do humans not find small feline companions appealing?  This one in particular should be familiar to you both—I’d assumed she would be comforting.”

Julian loosens his grip on me and sighs.  “Well, she is—”

“And humans _do_ prefer to speak with someone with a physical form, don’t they?”

Julian nods warily.  “Yes, but… cats don’t talk.”

I laugh softly.  “You’re relying too heavily on logic again, Julian.  I know this looks like Portia’s cottage, but remember this is a magical realm.”

Julian laughs softly at himself and takes my hand.  “How silly of me,” he whispers.

“What happened to you?” I ask Death.

“Yes,” Julian chimes in.  “Why didn’t you help us back there?”

Death leaps up onto a chair and sits like a sphinx, staring unblinkingly at us as their tail swishes to and fro behind them.

“It will be clearest, I think, if I start from the beginning,” they say softly.  “A very, very long time ago, the Devil approached me with a plan—He wished to break down the barrier between our realm and yours, and allow them to merge.  He wanted to rule over an endless expanse where nothing changes and nothing ends.  Such a world goes against my nature.  I could not abide it, and I told the Devil as much, but before I could interfere, he got me out of the way with a human pawn.”

“Valdemar?” Julian asks.

Death nods.  “Correct.  Valdemar had a strong connection with me, like your connection to the Hanged Man.  That is why the Devil approached them, plying them with honeyed words and temptations.  They accepted one deal.  Then another, and another until they forfeited their humanity.  Deals with the Devil always come at a cost.  Little by little they were corrupted and became a demon.  As they grew stronger, I grew weaker… Eventually I lost the ability to take physical shape at all… I am still unable to return to my proper form, but since you broke a link in their chain, I was able to manifest this one for you.”

“Oh, I see,” Julian whispers.

Death nods.  “Yes.  And I can do little, even now, to stop the Devil’s plans… The Devil approached several Arcana over the years.  Most were indifferent, but others, like me, were opposed.  We each had our own reasons to stop him, but we could not put aside our differences and cooperate—In the end, we each stood alone, and we each fell alone.”

In the silence that follows, Death begins to groom themselves, apparently unconcerned.

“If the Arcana failed,” I mutter, “How am I going to stop him?”

Death pauses and turns drowning blue eyes to me.

“You’ve already discovered the power to defeat the Devil,” Death says softly.  “But to unlock its true potential, you must do something uniquely human—Something no Arcana can do—And that is to connect to other people.  Those close to you, either of you, can share their strength with you.  It is not without its dangers, but if you work together, you can succeed.”

Julian looks at me questioningly.  I worry at my lip and then let out a sigh.

“What are you thinking, Sevrina?”

I look at him seriously.  “It’s risky…  There’s still so much I don’t know about this power… And it won’t just be me in danger… It’s you as well, and if we need other people, they’ll be at risk, too…  I’m afraid.”

Julian steps forward and takes my hands in his.

“If anyone can do this, it’s you, Sevrina.  You are stronger and braver than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I smile slightly.  “You believe in me?”

Julian sweeps me into a fierce embrace. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he whispers against my hair.  “Oh, my dear, sweet girl… If you can bring happiness to a miserable fool like myself, you can do anything.”

“That sure wasn’t easy,” I tease.  “You’ve been a formidable opponent.”

He laughs earnestly and cups my cheeks in his hands.

“From now on I am fighting alongside you, not opposing.”

I laugh and squeeze him, happily soaking in his reassurance until I remember we aren’t alone.  Death peeps curiously at me.

“You humans are curious creatures,” they say quizzically.  “I admit… I have never fully understood you.  I wish to know… why are you willing to risk yourself for this?”

I look between the cat and Julian.

“For love,” I whisper.  “For the people I care for… for the ones who matter most to me.  For Vesuvia… I’m frightened beyond my ability to express, but for you?”  I look Julian in the eyes, “I would lay down my life.  No cost is too high.”

Death makes a high sound, almost like laughter, but it is not mocking or malicious.

“The longer I exist, the less I seem to know,” they say, “Especially about humans.”

With a huge, jaw-cracking yawn, Death blinks languidly at us.

“It appears that I’ve used up most of my energy,” they explain. “I need to rest.”

Death hops onto the couch and starts kneading a pillow into shape. 

“If I recall correctly, humans also require rest and relaxation, do they not?”

“Yes,” I say softly.

“I can give you time,” Death suggests.  “While you remain in my realm, no time will pass elsewhere.”

“Sevrina,” Julian says softly, “You’ve been going non-stop.  You need to rest.”

I feel my knees tremble at the thought.

“That sounds divine,” I whisper.

Ever since the Masquerade started, it’s been one crisis after another.  And with time being strange here, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve slept.

“We’d be happy to accept the respite,” Julian says to the cat.  With the pillow suitably pummelled, Death walks in a tight circle and then settles down, curling up.  They look pleased.

“I’ll leave you a way into the Magician’s realm,” they say.  “There, you’ll be able to gather your allies.  Call to your friends, and trust they will answer.  Once you leave my realm, there will be no turning back.”

“Thank you,” I say softly. Julian echoes my words.

“You’re very welcome,” Death says amiably.  “Would you like to rest here, or shall I send you someplace more suitable?”

Julian smiles.  “I think I know just where to go for rest and relaxation… There’s this sloop I’ve always wanted to own…”

Around us, the cottage blurs, slowly reshaping itself according to Julian’s description.  The couch and cat both fade away.  When the realm settles, we’re on a ship, surrounded by sea and sky.  It’s a calm, balmy day, with a light breeze.  The ship bobs gently in the water.  Julian’s expression is one of awe and utter delight as he takes in our surroundings.  He darts from one side of the deck to the other, gleefully examining everything. 

“Oh, it’s just how I imagined it,” he breathes, smiling broadly.  Suddenly a thought occurs to him and he darts past me through a door and below decks.  A moment later, I hear a shout of delight, which makes me chuckle to myself, and he soon reappears, holding a pirate’s hat.  It’s huge, burgundy coloured, trimmed in gold and topped with massive ostrich plumes.  He approaches me with it mischievously and holds it up to me, making thoughtful noises, and giving me an encouraging look.

“Every ship needs a captain, you know,” he says excitedly. “I think you’d look… _mmm_ … very _commanding_.  What do you say, Sevrina?”

I smile wickedly.  “That’s Captain to you.”

Julian’s smile goes wider.  “Quite right, Captain!”

He deftly places the hat on my head, and tweaks it to a jaunty angle.

“Ah, perfect,” he breathes. “Gorgeous… Orders, Captain?  Use me however you like…”

“Swab the deck,” I tease.

He blinks as me, astonished, and I have to fight back a smile.  If he wants me to act like a proper captain in this game…

Catching on, he grins.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask with mock authority.  “Get to it.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

He snaps off a smart salute, making me laugh, and grabs a nearby mop.

“Permission to sing?” He asks, sweeping the mop over the deck.  I make a show of thinking it over, adjusting the hat to shade my face.

“Permission granted,” I agree, delighting him.

Julian launches right into a sea shanty, his voice warbling a little on the higher notes, but what he lacks in range, he makes up for with lung capacity and sheer enthusiasm.  He is a capable singer and teasingly chooses a raunchy, shameless tune.

_I passed her a hawser and took her in tow,_

_We crossed down the way like a couple should go._

_We turned in an alley not too clean or neat,_

_And we dropped out mudhooks at the end of the street._

_She then led me up to a third-story floor,_

_And in her fine stateroom I soon laid her o'er._

_She cleaned up her courses and her red flag downhaul,_

_Laid her lily-white hand on me reeftackle-fall._

_I gazed in her sternsheets, saw plenty of room,_

_And into her hullpipe I shoved my jibboom._

_With her fenders o'erhanging like a bent scupper's lip,_

_Pretty Polly's a pirate who scuttled my ship._

               

As he reaches the end, he chucks the mop aside and hooks his arm around my waist, spinning me with him.  The both of us are laughing hard until, pressed close together, we stop spinning and look at each other lovingly.  He sounds breathless, but he is grinning from ear to ear.

“Good enough to earn me some time with you in the Captain’s quarters?” he suggests softly.

I tap my chin, pretending to consider it.

“Hmm… You’ve earned s _ome_ time,” I tease, “But you still have some convincing to do.”

“Ohoho,” he laughs throatily, “I shall do my very best!”

He strides to the door that leads below decks, and opens it, gesturing with a gallant bow.

“After you, Captain,” he says, only following once I step through.  Below decks, he opens another door and repeats the gesture.  I step through to the Captain’s quarters, which are spacious and lavish, but feel homey and comfortably lived in. He takes off his coat as I examine the room. Knickknacks crowd the shelves, burnished metal and crystal shining in the warm light.  There is a desk with a high-backed chair, a large standing globe and a bookshelf packed with books and magical texts.  Across the room is a plush couch in front of a table overflowing with food and drink.  For the first time, I get an idea of the kind of future Julian dreams of for us, and it makes my heart swell.

I cross the room and take a seat on the couch, moving cushions until I’m comfortable.  Julian is still standing in the doorway, watching me with undisguisable hunger in his eyes, waiting for me to beckon him in.  I smile.

“Come here,” I murmur. 

Julian almost trips over himself in his enthusiasm, hurrying to join me, but instead of sitting on the couch beside me, he submissively folds himself down to sit on the ground by my legs.

“Is this acceptable, Captain?” he whispers, his cheeks flushing.  He sounds desperately eager, looking up at me through his long eyelashes as his fingers trail lightly up my legs and tease under the hem of my skirt.

“Yes, very good,” I smile wickedly.

It’s difficult to miss the way he perks up when he’s praised, flustered but pleased.  Finally tearing his eye away from my face, he casts a glance to the table, appraising the food. 

“May I, Captain?”

I nod.  “Yes.”

He selects a perfectly ripe strawberry from a bowl and leans up, offering it to me.  I can’t resist teasing him.  When my lips close around the fruit, he stares, is mouth slightly parted, the picture of desire.  Once I’ve eaten it, I reach over and pick up a fig, and offer it to him.

“Your turn,” I whisper.

He leans up, bracing himself on my leg so he can reach.  Mirroring me, he delicately takes the fruit from my fingers with his beautiful mouth.  We take turns feeding each other, bite by bite, until we’re hungry for something other than fruit.  Julian leans his head against my knee and I run my fingers through his hair as he tentatively brushes his fingers around the tops of my knees, his eyes roaming my body shyly before he meets my gaze.

“Permission to kiss you, Captain?” Julian whispers throatily.

I smile.  “If you don’t, you’ll have to walk the plank.”

Julian grins and brings himself up to kiss me, as tall as he can from on his knees.  His kiss is hungry but I can tell he is holding back for permission. I pull my mouth back from his and look him in the eye.

“This won’t do,” I whisper, my hands on either side of his face.  “Kiss me like you mean it.”

Julian looks sheepish. “Like I mean it?”

“Where is my brazen, passionate man?” I whisper, sliding my hands down his neck and untying his tie.  “I saw him standing at the door a few moments ago with a look of aching lust and now he’s shy?”

Julian’s mouth curls into a wicked smile.

“I should kiss you _like I mean it_?” he says lowly, “Is that how I should satisfy you, Captain?”

I barely whisper _yes_ when he takes my mouth with his ravenously, his lips open and playful, but his kisses don’t stay at my mouth, they travel down my cheeks, throat and chest, over the tops of my breasts and his hands hike my skirts up around my hips while he positions himself between my legs.  He draws back and kisses first at my knees, then up the inside of my thighs, and then pauses.

“Kiss you like I mean it?” he whispers.  “I really have your permission?”

I know exactly what he’s hinting at now and I exhale a shaking breath.

“Yes, Love,” I whisper.

He pushes my skirts up a bit further and opens my legs wide, reaching his arms around the underside of my thighs to draw himself nearer.  One hand holds my skirts out of the way and the other reaches up to take hold of my hand and places it on the back of his head.

“Direct me as you please,” he begs, “I am yours to use for your pleasure, oh, my Captain…”

He presses his lips against me softly at first, testing the waters with delicate soft-mouthed kisses before his playful pink tongue slips out of his mouth and dances slickly around my most secret parts.  He moans softly at the back of his throat in enjoyment and then looks up at me with his dark grey eyes as my fingers curl encouragingly through his hair. 

“Ooh, Julian,” I heave, “Ooh, yes… Gods, you’re so gorgeous…”

He makes a soft noise at the back of his throat that sounds like a cross between a groan and a chuckle, and pulls back away from me for just a moment so that his free hand can gently caress me there.

“You taste delicious,” he whispers.  “I could do this for days…”

He puts his mouth back over me and kisses me hotly, tongue and soft, pliant lips treating this part of me like a second mouth.  He slips his tongue teasingly inside of the place I open before returning his attention to my quivering clitoris, keeping his mouth soft and warm against me.

After a few minutes my hips begin to tilt involuntarily and he increases the speed with which his tongue laps over me with ardent zeal—his enthusiasm is more than equalled by his talent for it.  I imagine in our time together in my lost memories that he was well practiced in this erotic art form and in regaining his memories of us he has remembered all the ways to make me quake with desire, and he is eager to put them back into practice.

I murmur his name softly and I hear a pleased moan bubble up in the back of his throat as he continues to treat me to his hot wet kisses.

“Oh, Julian,” I heave, my fingers clutching at the couch cushions frantically, “That’s so good… Oh, please don’t stop…”

He loves my begging and continues on, holding tight to my tilting hips as my murmurs increase in volume and intensity and I tighten my fingers in his hair as I crest over the paradise of his ardent mouth, lost in a wave of pure sensation that forces my eyes to shut tightly as the air around us glitters and I cry out to him.  Once the intensity subsides, I loosen my grip on his hair and pet his head softly as I look down to see him staring up at me while planting soft, sweet kisses over the place he had just loved to the peak of lust.

His gaze is intense and sweet, his eyes dancing with a loving mischief.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs, watching my chest rise and fall with uneven, hungry breaths. 

“Gods, the things you do to me…” I whisper, looking at him intensely.

“Anything for you, Captain,” he says with a winsome smile.

With a shaking exhale, he leans his head against my knee, turning his face to kiss my thigh.  I rake my fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes in delight.  His cheeks are pink and he’s gorgeous.

“I’m sorry for pulling your hair,” I whisper with a laugh.

“Oh don’t be,” he says with a mischievous grin, “I’ve told you I don’t mind being roughed up… Now, whereas I sincerely hope you enjoyed that, I must admit I hope that my Captain isn’t _completely_ satisfied just yet.”

“You’re quite right… it’s time for bed,” I say teasingly, my breath still heavy.  “Captain’s orders.”

The bed is tucked into an alcove on the far wall.  It’s piled high with pillows and blankets.  Julian levers himself upright and offers me a hand up from the sofa.

“I was right, you know,” he whispers with a laugh. “You _are_ very commanding in that hat… I’ll have to get one for you for future games…especially once I buy the sloop…”

I smile and kiss him eagerly.

“I can’t exactly wear it to bed, though,” I say softly as I hang it on a hook on the wall, “Especially when my intention is that neither of us should be wearing anything at all…”

When I turn around, I burst into laughter.  Julian’s arranged himself on the bed, his long limbs splayed out in blatant invitation.  I can tell even through his trousers that his erection is prominent.  As soon as I get close, he reaches out, pulling me into the bed with him in a heap of giggling and feverish kisses.  After a moment I fall onto my back and I sink into the indecently soft mattress with a pleased sigh.

“Oh, you’d better start saving for this boat when we get back,” I groan ecstatically as he pulls himself over me.

“I’ll squirrel away every loose coin,” he whispers through grinning lips as he fusses with removing my dress.  While we kiss, I unbutton his shirt.

“I love you,” I whisper.  “You are the most utterly breath-taking thing I’ve ever seen…”

His eyes go wide a moment, as if he wasn’t expecting the compliment, and then he smiles sweetly.

“Oh, Sevrina, if there is anything beautiful about me, it’s because you draw it out into the light,” he whispers, pulling me up to seated so that he can pull my dress and under slip over my head in one fell swoop.  “You though, Sevrina… Oh, you don’t need to cast magic to be spellbinding…”

“Julian,” I whisper between his hot kisses.  “Take off your clothes and make love to me…”

He smiles and sits up away from me to shake his shirt down his arms and tosses it onto the floor while I rub him through his trousers.  He takes a moment to enjoy the pressure of my hand and then unfastens his trousers and gets up from the bed to slide them down his long legs.  Once naked, he climbs back over me on the bed and draws himself down to kiss me.

“Tell me how to love you, Captain,” he whispers throatily.  “Oh, Gods, I want you…”

I smile and press my cheeks into his kisses.

“How do you want me?” I whisper teasingly. “I’m open to suggestion, you know.” 

“Oho,” he laughs, “I want you every which way… I want you a hundred different ways in this bed, bent over that chair, against the wall, on the desk, above me, beneath me, face to face and from behind… There is no way I can think of having you that isn’t appealing…”

I kiss him and press him over onto his back.  He watches my every move as I climb over him and straddle his hips, taking his erection into my hand and stroking it.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, his hands wandering up and down me as though he isn’t sure where he wants to hold me, “That feels so good… please… Captain, have I been good?  Oh Gods… Please…”

After a few moments of letting him beg I draw myself up and point him inside of me.  He groans ecstatically as I envelop him, his hands settled for the moment on my hips and pressing his pelvis upward deeper into me.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers again with a breathless, flushed expression, “You’re so wet… Oh, I’d stay inside you forever, it’s bliss…”

I lean down to kiss him and when we part, his eyes are wild, flitting between my lips and eyes.  His cheeks, throat and chest are flushed a gorgeous pink.  He’s trying not to buck his hips up and down and he’s only barely succeeding.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you more,” he sighs, smiling.  He closes his eyes as I begin to shift my position up and down the length of him, at first ever so slowly until his hands grip my hips sturdily and he begins to beg.

“More… more, please more, Sevrina…”

“What’s that?”

“Captain,” he corrects himself.  “Captain, please…”

“Good boy…”

I start to rock at a medium pace, making him exhale the most beautiful sighs of devotion and love.  Content with the pace for the moment, he wanders one hand to my breast and settles the pad of his other thumb over my clitoris, rubbing lightly in little circles as I ride him.

“You’re so gorgeous on your back,” I whisper, making him smile.  “Oh, the things I’ll put your body through when we get back…”

“ _Da, ya tvoya malen'kaya shlyushka_ …”

“How do you feel about someone watching us do this?” I laugh, “I need a translator.”

He laughs softly, watching the place where we’re joined as I slide up and down on him.

“Sevrina,” he groans, grabbing greedily at my hips again, clueing me in to his increasing hunger.  “Oh, Captain, please…”

“How do you want it, Julian?” I murmur.

“Let me,” he whispers huskily.  “Please let me, I can’t take….I need… _Ya budu vesti sebya…_ I.. I’ll be good….”

“Alright.  You’ve been good.  How would you like your reward?”

I slide up and off of him and he seizes me in his arms, kissing me deeply as he rolls me over onto my back.  He stands up on the side of the bed and, the both of us laughing happily, pulls me by the legs so that I’m lying sideways on the mattress, my hips sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulls my legs around him and points himself inside me again, moving in and out of me at a heartier rhythm, and he smiles mischievously

“I guarantee you’re far more beautiful on your back than I,” he mutters, “I want you so much I feel like I can’t get deep enough into you…”

He leans down and kisses me hotly on the mouth before drawing back again and watching the way my body shifts beneath him.  He holds fast to my hips and softly groans as he cranes is head back.  I reach up to caress his beautiful broad chest.  His eyes fall to the place we’re joined and he mutters under his breath in Nevivonian. It drives me wild.

“ _Bogi tvoya kiska…_ _ty takoy mokryy vnutri_ …”

“Julian,” I breathe, “Are you holding back?”

He sniggers softly.  “I am, admittedly….”

We lock eyes and laugh. 

“Don’t,” I say.  “I want to see you satisfy….”

He leans down to kiss me again and touches his forehead to mine.

“Tell me I may,” he whispers, “Please…”

I kiss him again.

“Julian, I want you to… You’re driving me mad…”

He picks up his pace now, going faster and harder than before.  I reach a hand between us to rub myself while he pumps in and out of me like a piston, and it isn’t long before the silver magic begins to sparkle in the air around us, and I mutter intelligible things with increasing intensity as I build and finally climax.

Julian keeps bucking his hips.  His pace is practically frantic.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes.  “Oh Sevrina…”

A long moment after, he draws down over me again and I watch his eyes crease tightly shut as he crests.  It tears through him like an explosion, and he swears laughingly in the slow descent from ecstasy.  I kiss his cheeks and he murmurs my name over and over again, his emotion gripping him tightly. 

“Oh, I love you,” he whispers shakily, “I love you so much more than I can say…”

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper, my breath still panting and heavy.  I caress his cheek and he presses his face into my hand, kissing the mound of my thumb.

“I needed you...” He heaves, “Oh, thank you, Sevrina….”

“Shh, Love… I needed you, too.”

He looks down over me and simpers sweetly.  I am so in love with him.

“Did you enjoy that?” He whispers, softly biting at his lip.

“Oh yes,” I groan.  “You were so eager…”

He chuckles.  “What can I say?  I’m such a slut for you…”

We laugh and kiss deeply.  A moment later, he withdraws from me and we both crawl back up to the pillows.  He pulls the blankets up over us and settles his head into the crook of my shoulder.  I run my fingers through his thick, auburn curls, and he settles his hand on my breast, running teasing fingertips over my nipple in little circles.

“How did we do this if we’re outside of our bodies?” He whispers with a sudden laugh.  “How can I feel and taste and smell you?”

“I’m not sure,” I say laughingly, “But it’s real.”

“When we get our bodies back, I’ll do this until I’m sore,” he chuckles.  “I’ll strain every muscle to please you.”

I squeeze him.  “Oh, I’ll hold you to that, Love.”

We lay in quiet for a short while, cooling down in each other’s embrace, and then he cranes his neck up to kiss me.

“Are you tired, Darling?” he whispers when we part.

I smile dreamily as I look into his eyes.

“Yes, I could use some rest,” I concede.  “Stay here with me, please?”

“I wouldn’t dream of moving,” he whispers, drawing himself up from me and pulling me over onto his chest.  “I’ll be right here.  I won’t let go.  You’re safe in my arms, Sevrina, I’ll always protect you…”

I reach up to kiss him and he nuzzles into my touch.

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper.  “I’ll always protect you, too.”

The corner of his mouth goes up in a small smile.

“I’ve no doubt of it,” he says sweetly. “Cuddle in, now…”

I snuggle into his chest, letting my head rest on his shoulder.  I lay my hand over his heart and he takes hold of it, lightly pressing it against his chest.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he murmurs.

“I love you, Julian.”

“Get some rest, my Sweet One,” He whispers, pressing little kisses into my hair, “You’ll be in my arms when you wake.”


	21. The Sun:  The First Love Story

When I wake, I am cuddled close in to Julian’s chest.  He is absently stroking my hair and kisses my forehead when he feels me stir.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.  “You’ve not slept very long.”

“Mmm hmm…”

He chuckles.  “Oh, how on earth could I have forgotten your sweet, sleepy grogginess?  There’s plenty of food—would you like something to eat?”

I rub my eyes.  “Yes, please…”

Julian kisses my hair and slides his slender, naked body out of bed and trots over to the spot on the floor where his trousers are.  I laugh softly to myself as he fights his long, gangling legs into them before stepping away to the table and picking up a pastry.  I stir from my place in the pillows and slip into his shirt, which he’s left on the ground, before tiptoeing up behind him to appraise the table.

“No, no,” he says laughingly.  “Have a seat, let me get it for you.” 

He turns and kisses my head before shooing me to a seat on the couch.

I curl up my legs under me and sink into the plush cushions, watching him.  He knows exactly what I’d choose from the table and brings me a plate with fresh fruit and a flaky pastry he’s buttered.  He pops a fig into his mouth and chews slowly as he looks me over with a contented smile.

“You used to steal my shirts when you didn’t plan on leaving bed for long,” he says softly, with a nostalgic smile on his face.  “Will we be spending a lazy day, then?”

I nod.  “I’m not ready to go yet.”

He smiles, his eyes bright with affection.

“I confess, neither am I,” he mutters.  “I want to stay for a little while.  We’ve had so little quiet time to ourselves.”

He leans in and kisses the crown of my head.

“Will I read to you while you have your breakfast?” he asks, stepping over to the book shelf.  “There must be something agreeable to read here…”

He caresses the spines of several books before he pulls one out of the shelf gleefully.

“I haven’t seen this since I was very young,” he breathes delightedly.  “I used to read these to Pasha before she could read… Nevivonian fairy stories!”

I perk up.  A little fantasy might be just what we need.

“That sounds fun,” I say, patting the sofa.  “Come sit and read me your favourites.”

He reads me two stories.  One about a child who lives in a palace of ice, separated from her family due to an evil sorcerer’s curse, the second about a selkie who sacrifices her seal skin to save her sisters from a poacher only to never be able to return to the sea.

I curl up into his arms after I finish my breakfast to peek at the delicate line illustrations on each page, and once he finishes the story, he turns his head to kiss me.  I look deep into his eyes and a longing for knowledge of our past romance suddenly floods me.

“Do you want another story, then?” he says softly.

“Will you tell me our story?” I ask him, passing my fingers through his hair.  “Now that you have the memories back… I want to know.”

Julian closes the book and looks at me with concern.

“Won’t that give you those headaches?” he asks softly.

I shake my head.  “I don’t think so… it hasn’t hurt since I found out I’d died… I don’t know why…. I know I’ll never get my memories back.  Any piece of the past I can know, even if only being told about it, I want…  I know you understand.”

“I do understand,” he says with a sober nod, and then he smiles wistfully as he sets the book aside.  “Well then… where shall I start?”

I scoot closer to him, a strange excitement fluttering in my chest.

“Start when we met.”

He smiles nostalgically, pausing for a moment to draw up the memory as thoroughly as possible. He intertwines our fingers and sighs happily.

“It was nearly spring,” he begins.  “That morning was the final frost… I’d been at the Palace for several weeks getting my clinic set up with Doctor Satrinava.  The disease was only beginning to appear then, but it was beginning to become concerning, and the Count called for doctors to come to search for a cure.  Since I was already known to the palace for treating the Count, and had apprenticed under Nazali, I was one of the first on the case of the plague.  Once doctors were instated, scientists were called in to develop medicines based on the doctors’ findings, and soon after, Nadia felt it would be helpful to bring in fortune tellers to help guide us to the cure.  She invited Asra, whom she was friends with…  Asra brought you and another woman to the palace with him.”

“Another woman?” I ask in surprise.  “Who was she?”

Julian smiles.  “Yes.  She was Asra’s lover… her name was Morgana.  I only had the smallest of encounters with her at the palace before, but the two were betrothed to be married and very in love.  She was back and forth between helping at the palace with Asra and helping with your shop as well as working in the markets—she travelled to all of the Vesuvian markets to procure what you needed in your shop.  Once a year she went as far as Atapra to collect rarer ingredients…”

“Oh my Gods… I didn’t know Asra had a lover… what happened to her?”

Julian shrugs.  “I’m really not sure.  I think she must have left after the plague—I never saw her again after… well… After you...”

“Oh my Gods,” I sigh.  “Oh, poor Asra.”

Julian smiles and twines his fingers with mine.  “Once we are past all this shit with the Devil, we’ll ask him.  Perhaps he’ll tell us more about her.”

I look at him quizzically.  Doesn’t he seem to know something?  I don’t have the time to contemplate it because he starts talking again.

“I didn’t see you immediately on your arrival—it was at the banquet that night and there was a crush of people there…. Lucio had erected living quarters for those who had come in search of a cure—Simple rooms with simple furnishings and no kitchens, so we took meals at the palace.  I recognized Asra from being a friend of the palace in the time that I had first returned to Vesuvia.  I don’t know what Asra thought of me in those days, but he was always cordial and so I made my way over to say hello to him and Morgana.  You were running behind, having just installed yourself in your rooms, and so you hadn’t arrived at the banquet yet.  Asra explained to me that he’d brought his apprentice with him so that you’d not have to suspend your studies in his time at the palace, but that you’d return to the shop twice a week to take care of the customers who came to you for your herbal expertise, which would give Morgana the opportunity to go and replenish your supplies.  She would flit up to the palace to see Asra and to help whenever she could, and was there every Sunday as the shop was closed… But you were especially concerned about the disease and wanted to do anything you could to be helpful and to ease the suffering…  He said he’d begun teaching you to read his Arcana cards, you were picking this up fast and effectively, and you had kept asking if there would be opportunity for you to help people at the palace.”

“What did you do when you saw me?” I ask teasingly, “Did you sweep me off my feet?  Were you suave and charming and debonair?”

Julian laughs.  “Oh, quite the opposite, Sevrina… I bumbled like a damnable fool.”

I laugh and I kiss him quickly on the cheek.

“Do you want tea?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says.  “Thank you.”

I get up to prepare a teapot and light a little woodburning stove in the corner.  Julian watches me put tea leaves into a diffuser and prepare the cups.

“Please keep going,” I say with a smile.  “Tell me about meeting me.”

Julian grins broadly.

“You stepped into the room through a door behind Asra’s back, and I saw you…. You were wearing a sage green dress that went to the floor, with your beautiful lacework embellishing it around the cuffs and the hem, and a kind of cord belt with decorative tassels.  Your face was bright and looked excited… Your hair was down your back, and you’d braided little green beads into one side.  You had these hammered tin earrings that clacked against the beads when you turned your head…. Your lovely pale skin was such a stark and beautiful contrast to the darkness of your hair and your dress.  You looked heavenly…. You were scanning the room looking for Asra and Morgana, and once you spotted his white hair you headed straight for us.  I couldn’t take my eyes from you.  Asra introduced me to you as Ilya.  You held your hand out in greeting and I couldn’t move for a moment, I was so dumbstruck.  When I did finally take your hand, I didn’t shake it, I raised it to my lips and kissed your fingers, and immediately started to berate myself for it in my head, going, _You’re such an idiot!  Stop it!  Can’t you shake a pretty girl’s hand like a normal human being? Fuck sakes, man, you’re taking too long to react! Drop her hand!_ Lucky for me, you weren’t put off at all.  You smiled at me all night.”

I start laughing.  “So I could tell you thought I was pretty?”

Julian laughs, “It wouldn’t have been difficult to pick up on.”

The teapot begins to bubble.  I pour the hot tea into our cups and stir honey into them. I hand Julian a cup and he thanks me for it.  I pull an afghan from the back of the high-backed chair and wrap it around my shoulders, and make myself a cosy seat on some cushions on the floor at his feet so that we can both easily reach the tiny table on his side of the couch.

“Please continue, Julian.”

“I wound up sitting across the table from you at dinner, and you were asking me questions about how I was helping with the plague research.  Asra reiterated that you were there to study magic with him, but that you were looking for some way to contribute to the cause.  When I told you about my clinic on the edge of the palace grounds, you asked me if there would be some way for you to help me there.  I was a bit taken aback by your wanting to be involved, and your explanation really struck me.

“ _What point do I have being here if not to help those who need it?_ You said.  _What point do my herbs or my magic serve if not to be used for good?  Compassion and kindness are at the root of all healing, aren’t they?_

“I was really struck by that.  I’d studied Medicine in Prakra because I wanted to help people, and it was put into practice under Nazali’s guidance as a field medic…  I sometimes struggled to keep my frustrations in check which meant I didn’t always have the most comforting bedside manner.  My Dear, I was in awe of your idealism.  It was exactly the kind of idealism that can save worlds, and even pull a jaded doctor back to basics, which is exactly what you’d done.

“I asked Asra, since he was your teacher and your lessons were your priority, if he could see to letting you come to work in the clinic twice a week on the days I was in there—Nazali ran it the remaining days, and the rest of my time was dedicated to plague research, but the two weekly clinic days would be days in which you would have felt helpful.  Asra was accommodating because he knew how much you wanted to help, but it also freed time up for he and Morgana. So you were spending two days a week under my wing.  The clinic wasn’t a research facility—that was in the dungeons.  The clinic served anyone that needed it, not just those coping with the plague, and you took an interest in midwifery.”

I look up at him with surprise.  “Did I?”

“Yes,” he says with a smile, “You said there was a long history of magic and midwifery.”

“Oh my goodness,” I laugh softly to myself.  “The baker and his wife just had their first, and I helped her with her discomforts before and after the baby arrived.  I must have retained something I’d learned… That’s incredible…”

Julian smiles.  “Oh, Kitten… _You’re_ incredible.” 

I squeeze his knee and ask him to continue.

“Your obligations were two days in the shop at home selling your herbal remedies, two days with me and three days working on your magic lessons.  You and I began spending all of our leisure time together.  Gradually, the Count began to demand more of Asra’s time, and rather than sitting in your room alone, you began spending more time with me.  If I needed to work and research on days when I could do so outside of the dungeons, I’d scrawl notes and study my books in the gardens or in your rooms, and you’d sit with me in quiet, engaged in your lacework and brewed me coffee.  We packed picnics, walked Brundle, traded stories… We quickly became very close.  We understood one another.  You put me at ease... You still do.”

“Was it a slow burn?” I ask softly, “Did you keep guards up?”

“Not for you, Sevrina…  I couldn’t, and furthermore, I didn’t want to.”

He sips his tea and I reach for his free hand.

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper, running my thumb absentmindedly over his murderer’s brand.

“And I you, Sevrina,” he says softly, setting his cup aside.

“What about Asra and Morgana?” I ask.  “What did they think?”

Julian huffs out a laugh through his nose.  “Well, Morgana seemed to like seeing you happy—You even told me later that she teased you about falling for a doctor—But Asra… He didn’t like it much.  He couldn’t quite trust me—You yourself had described him to me as being as family, so I suppose he was acting like a protective brother.  One day when you had to go to the shop, he came to see me about you—He’d said he didn’t want me to see you outside of the clinic, that I occupied too much of your time, that you didn’t have the ability to keep up your training because you were distracted by working with me.  I pointed out that the Count was keeping him too occupied to teach you and that if you wanted to spend your leisure time in my company I wouldn’t be the one to protest.  He knew I was right and he didn’t like it much.

“He said, _This is very important to her.  She cares very deeply about this.  Her compassion is irrepressible.  If you use it to take advantage of her, she’d never recover from the shame.  I don’t want her to be a notch in your belt. I don’t want to see her hurt._

“Well I told him then that I’d had no intention of hurting you and that I valued you as a person and cared for you.  I didn’t dare tell him the extent of my feelings, but he must have sensed I was besotted…   At any rate, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on me before he left.”

“Did that deter you at all?” I ask. 

“Not remotely,” Julian laughs. “This really delicious tension was building between us for some months.  Our _goodnights_ started to take longer and longer because we didn’t want to part.  We seemed to bump into one another more.  You’d let your hand linger on my arm if you touched me while you were talking. Then Nadia started to arrange entertainments—Concerts or dancing or comedic plays at the palace fortnightly to keep morale up, and we always went together.  You always looked radiant.  Breath-taking.  When Nadia had announced the coming entertainment would be a dance, you told me you didn’t know how and suggested I go without you, but I wouldn’t have it.  I told you I would teach you a few of the dances, and we could sit out the ones you didn’t know.  You agreed—I vividly remember the tension in my stomach as I showed you the stance for the waltz when I put my hand on your waist—Gods, it’s making my stomach flutter even now, it was so thrilling… I showed you the steps in the open position so that you had room to look down and watch the way our feet moved, but once you’d gotten the hang of it, I drew you into the closed position so that we could try the dance for real… You were flush against me,  and there was a moment we made the most intense eye contact… you reached up to brush my hair away from my eyes, and I thought my heart was going to burst… and then you drew back and averted your gaze to the floor…”

He trails off a moment, lost in the memory.

“Did you kiss me?” I whisper, enraptured.

He shakes his head, stirring himself from the dreamy remembrance.

“No, I didn’t kiss you.  It was the only thing in the world I wanted to do in that moment, and I very nearly did, but I was terrified.”

“Was that the first time you nearly kissed me?”

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be the last…. But my heart and your respect for me were on the line—I didn’t want to act on an impulsive desire if it meant destroying our friendship and rapport—It was much too dear to me.  I ached for you in silence, waiting for some sign you felt something for me before moving forward…”

I put my cup on the table and rest my head dreamily on his knee.

“Oh, this is better than those fairy stories you were reading,” I whisper.  “Please tell me more.”

Julian smooths his hand over my hair, smiling languidly.

“One evening at dinner in the palace, you told me you’d be going to your shop early the following morning, and would be working there two days.  You told me that you hated to walk back to the palace after dark on the days you walked alone, and that Asra and Morgana were not able to accompany you.  You asked if I would be willing to spend the second day in your shop doing my research while you worked so that you had trusted company to walk you back to the palace after you’d shut shop.  Well, I agreed like a shot.  I told you I’d bring something in for us to eat from the market, and we could take our meals in the shop so you’d be able to work the day through.

When I arrived the next day, you were tying herbs into little sprigs to dry, and Morgana was there.  She didn’t seem to know I’d be coming.  She shared a knowing glance with you when she saw me and smiled wryly as she promised discretion.  She told us to enjoy our day and asked you to do an inventory on the herbs while she went out to the markets to stock up on dried starfish and gemstones.  You got me set up in the back room and went to sit at the counter in the front, making a list of the things she’d need to get the following day.  I heard the bell at the door ring a few times, and your lovely voice advising on herbal tea blends for headaches, an infusion for a colicky baby, homemade salves and oils for arthritis...  I realized then that what you did with herbs and magic wasn’t unlike what I was doing with science, and thought it might be an idea to talk to you about magical herbal properties that might make a difference in finding the cure for the plague, so I brought my journal out and sat in a chair in the front, quizzing you and making notes while you ground coffee beans and then made me a press of it…

“We spent the day that way.  Morgana returned briefly with her purchases and chatted idly to us as she put them away, and you gave her your list of herbs that needed replenished before she set off again for the palace to see Asra.  At your urging, she promised not to tell Asra you’d brought me to the shop, and that’s when I asked what his problem was.  She told me about a tarot reading he’d done and the disasters it apparently signified, that he felt it was somehow linked to me, but she had been doing her best to get him to realize my company was good for you.  When you were out of earshot, she told me he was convinced I just wanted to bed you, but she knew better, she could see it in the way I looked at you.  She embraced you then left for the palace, and you fished out a book on herbalism for me in case I should find it helpful, and said you’d always be there if I had questions.  You put your hand over mind and looked at me seriously, like you wanted to say something, but you pulled back and continued bundling your herbs to be dried.  When you decided it was time to shut the shop, we packed up our things and you put out the lantern and locked up.  It was a blazing summer evening.  You thanked me for the day and said it felt very special to you that I would spend time with you in your territory and that I’d taken interest in how you worked.   When we were about halfway back to the palace, you thanked me for the day again, and I asked you why you were thanking me.  You said, _I just enjoy being near you.  I hate when we have to spend the days apart, I get lonely for you.  Inconsolably so.  Is that a little bit silly?_

“We were in a quiet street then, and I stopped, which made you stop.  I said, _Sevrina… That is the least silly thing I can think of…_ And then I quite literally bit my tongue to keep from saying anything further… You didn’t press it, but to my astonishment, you took my arm and walked close to me the rest of the way back to the palace grounds, even leaning your head on my shoulder.”

“Who said it first?” I ask.

“I did,” Julian laughs, “But only barely.”

“Oh please tell me,” I whisper, hugging his legs.  “This is so wonderful…”

“It was not more than a fortnight after that day at your shop.  The weather was very fine and you and I happened to have a day where, after my morning appointments with the Count, neither of us had any obligations.  We decided to take a picnic in the palace gardens.  I met you at your door after I’d finished in the palace, and you had gathered a lunch and a blanket to sit on.  We were exchanging stories and laughing while we set ourselves up under the tree by the fountain—You surprised me with a small bottle of sweet honey mead for us to share.  The bottle was too small to get either of us drunk, and I’m glad for that or else I wonder what a fool I’d have made of myself…  You tapped your cup to mine with a smile and suggested we drink a health to our friendship.  A little later, when we were out of drink, I teased and said it was a damn good thing the bottle wasn’t bigger because if I’d gotten too silly, I’d be tempted to jump into the fountain.  You laughed and I wanted to keep you laughing, so I got to my feet and told you I was going to do it after all.  You grabbed my wrist and pulled me back gently protesting, _Ilya, what if a guard sees?  Ilya, we’ll get in trouble!_ ”

He’s laughing and reaches a hand over to stroke my hair.

“But I kept pulling onward because you were still laughing, and I wriggled out of your grasp and kept advancing on the fountain and had my shirt partway undone, and when I wasn’t two steps away, you leaped in front of me and pushed me back harder than you realized and we both fell to the ground laughing—I landed on my back, my shirt open, and you landed on my chest.  Then the laughter died away and we stared at each other a few long seconds…  The colour of your dress brought out the blush in your cheek, you have no idea how gorgeous you were…  You managed a strangled whisper to ask if I was alright and apologized for pushing me so hard, and then you kissed me.  Then you panicked and got to your feet, wanting to rush away, but I caught you and I kissed you the way I had been dying to for months…  When we parted for air, I told you I loved you _._ You said, _Oh, Gods, Ilya, I’ll love you forever_ ….

“We stayed in the garden until nightfall, sitting for a while then strolling arm in arm.  I kept stopping to kiss you. When I walked you to your room and we were outside your door, you asked me not to leave and you invited me in.  I stayed the night but we only talked, kissed and slept in the safety of the other’s embrace…  Sevrina, Love, are you cold?”

He’s seen me tighten the afghan around myself.  “It’s a little chilly,” I say.

“Come up here, then,” he says, patting the seat beside him.  “Come cuddle in, I’ll keep you warm.”

I move to the sofa and settle in beside him and into his arms, wrapping the afghan around my bare legs.  He kisses my hair and smiles down at me as I raise my face to look at him, then he kisses my forehead.

“What happened next?” I say, snuggling deeper.

“What happened next is I had to sneak out of your room very early.  You’d asked me to keep our relationship quiet until you’d managed to break it to Asra and Morgana—turns out Asra had said to you, too, that he didn’t want you to get any deeper involved with me than you were.  Both you and Morgana had brushed off the card reading he was concerned about—He was afraid you’d get hurt.  We maintained a façade of friendship for a few weeks, our meetings tense with the need to get closer.  We’d steal kisses behind corners, I slept in your room a lot, but since Asra was just a wall away, we never had a real tryst… This is the part that was the slow burn.”

I am all smiles listening to him tell me of our past.  I hug him hard. 

“Keep going,” I sigh, “I want to know everything.”

Julian laughs.  “Yes, Love… You were at my door one morning before going into the city to your shop, and I awakened to the soft knocking.  It was early, the sun was just a distant glow on the horizon.  When I opened the door to you, you stepped inside briefly after being sure no one had seen you, you kissed me, and you slipped a little key into my hand.  It was the key to your shop—The one I broke in with the day you and Pasha caught me red handed… It was you who had given it to me.  You knew the both of us had no obligations the following day, and you told me to come to the shop that night, that Asra and Morgana wouldn’t be there and that we could finally have some very real privacy.  Well, the way you kissed me let me know exactly what was on your mind, and I told you I would be there.  You said to use the key for the back door so that no passers-by would see me coming and think the shop was open.

“The day was a blur but at the same time seemed to last forever.  You were on my mind—a much more appealing thought than leeches!  And as soon as I was able to find an excuse to get away, I quickly bathed and hired a carriage to take me to your shop.  It was dark when I’d gotten there, and cold enough to see my breath.  I stood outside the door a moment with the key in my hand and took a deep breath because I was nervous… I went into the shop and locked the door behind me.  I came into the front room and you were there, waiting.  You stood up when I came in and smiled. You told me that we were totally alone.  I don’t know who took the first step, but we flew into one another’s arms, kissing wildly and I lifted you into my arms and asked where your bedroom was.  I carried you up the stairs and we got into your bed…”

He trails off, closing his eyes. 

“It was the most beautiful moment of my life up until then,” he whispers.  “It was the ideal mixture of tenderness and wildness and… Oh, I adored you…. I felt adored…. Nothing in the world could have compared to it.”

My eyes are welling up, remembering his reverence as he kissed my scars in the bath….I can imagine him being very thorough in his adoration of me….

“Did I cry?” I whisper.

“We both did,” he replies softly.  “Once the sparkling air cleared, we laid on the pillow and looked at each other in awe.  I kept thinking I’d died and gone to heaven, how else could I be lying beside the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen?  How else could you have loved me enough to want me there?  My tears were quiet, awestruck… Yours started after mine, and I squeezed you close to me….we laughed and we whispered sweet promises to the other between kisses… I held you all through the night…

“We shot awake in the morning when we heard a door shutting downstairs.  Asra and Morgana had come home unexpectedly and called up to you, then Morgana opened the door to your room to see us together, you laying across my chest, mercifully covered in your bedding—She yelped, and turned out of the room immediately… She tried to buy us time—I heard her tell Asra she’d walked in on you dressing.  You were distressed, and I was upset for you… We dressed and I kissed you and told you it would all be alright… We went out to your kitchen, and Asra was waiting there.  When he saw me come out of your room, oh… if looks could kill...  You asked me if I would leave the shop for an hour to give you a chance to speak to Asra and Morgana, so I did.  I set out to the market to buy us some breakfast, and when I came back, it was less uneasy.  Asra made tea and the four of us ate the things I’d brought back… It wasn’t too terribly tense, and by the end of it he shook my hand, which struck me as meaning you and Morgana had gotten through to him.  He said you were his sister and his motivation was to protect you. When you and I talked later, you said he was angry, kept telling you I was dangerous, his cards said this and that, and then you told him everything—We’d confessed love, waited a while and then you invited me to stay with you…  You said when you told him how we’d wept after that night together, he finally stopped arguing with you, and said he could see it truly was love, and that was enough for him to give you an uneasy blessing.

“At some point or another, you slipped a note into my pocket without my realizing it.  I discovered it when I was working in the dungeons the next day.  I kept it on my desk to keep my spirits up, as things in the dungeons were becoming more and more grisly…”

He pauses and a shadow crosses his features.

“Are you alright?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he whispers.  “But I’m not sure you’ll want me to tell you more.”

“Why?”

“You… your….” He stumbles, “When you...”

My death.

I hug him hard around the middle.  “Tell me.  It’s alright.  I promise I’ll be alright.”

Julian kisses my hair and sits in silence for a moment before drawing in a breath.

“Our love affair was blissful… From the early autumn to the spring we were happy and free of worry, planning our future with an excitement I’d never known.  Asra eventually came around and we became close friends.  I started talking about travelling with you and wanted to bring Pasha to Vesuvia to live with us once things went back to normal.  But then the spring came, and the plague spiked.  The mortality rate skyrocketed.  I started to spend more and more time in the dungeons, looking for a cure.  The clinic virtually shut down.  I was doing several-day stretches in the dungeons, and the only time I spent with you was for a meal and sleep, both of which I was doing less and less of...  I promised to make it up to you.  You were extremely understanding and supportive.  You knew what the plague was doing and how urgent it was to find a cure.  I started to have nightmares, and you comforted me through them.  You were so gracious and peaceful, and you made me promise to take two days off every two weeks to spend with you and rejuvenate my energy.  Those days were spent with you, and were quiet and serene… Your love held me together.

“Nothing anyone did in that horrific dungeon yielded any results.   I thought the answers were in the blood.  I couldn’t have been more wrong, as we know now…  I became obsessed with finding the answers—Lucio began to put insurmountable pressure on me to find the cure once he became infected… I don’t know how I didn’t see anything strange in his resilience to it at the time—Most were dead in just a few days, but he was sick with it for months.  I spent longer and longer spells in the dungeon—I even moved my bedroll from my room down to my office.  You’d prepare food parcels for me to take with me, much of which I wound up giving to suffering patients….  I would spend three and four days down there at a time without leaving… I was consumed with the need to find the cure.

“The last time I saw you then, it was the beginning of December. I spent a restless night with you, and you convinced me to stay for the day.  It was cold, but no snow had fallen yet… There was peace with you.  We made love, stayed in bed most of the day.  I told you once this was over, I was going to take you away from Vesuvia for a while so that we could rest, be together away from the horror.  You told me you’d never sailed before and I told you we would rent a boat and I’d take you to Nevivon for a while…  We’d go see Pasha.  I held you close…  I didn’t want to be away from you at all that day, so you asked me to stay with you again that night.  I dreaded leaving you… We made love again before bed and you told me everything would be alright.  I did my best to believe you, but the dread in my stomach… I didn’t sleep well.”

His expression is unhappy.  Brow furrowed, he heaves a deep sigh.  I kiss his jaw and he tightens his hold on me.  I know the next part of the story will be hard for him to relive.

“I’m here,” I whisper.

“Thank Gods for that,” he says emotionally, turning his head to kiss my hair.

I reach up to meet his mouth and we share a brief kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.  “I will never let any harm come to you again, Sevrina.”

“I trust you, Julian,” I whisper.  “I love you so.”

He kisses my forehead and sighs, pressing my hand to his bare chest over his heart.

“The next morning, Asra and Morgana came to your door to walk you to the shop.  You weren’t exactly yourself but my nightmares had kept you up a lot of the night and you insisted you were feeling low energy, but otherwise fine.  You kissed me goodbye and wished me luck for a breakthrough, and said we would see each other in a few days.  I watched as you and Asra and Morgana left, feeling a heaviness in my chest I couldn’t qualify.

“I returned to my work in the dungeons, knowing you were going to spend the next two nights at the shop.  I didn’t leave for four days.  I toiled there, taking only the briefest respites of sleep, barely touching any food and feeling ill with uneasiness...  I read and re-read the note you slipped to me the morning after our first tryst and told myself the sooner the cure was discovered, the sooner you and I could leave this horror behind us.  That future was the light that kept me going.  I persevered until the exhaustion settled heavily on me, and resolved to go and get some proper rest.  Besides that, I was aching to see you…”

His voice catches and he pauses.

“Are you alright, Julian?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he breathes, “I’m just about to tell you about the worst moment of my life… I don’t want to relive it, but you deserve to know.  I just hope you’ll forgive me for not being there for you.”

I hush him.

“Julian, I know how important your work was.  I won’t blame you for what happened.”

He looks at me with a sadness in his eyes that I can’t bear.

“It’s passed,” I whisper.  “We’ll be together always.  That’s our future.”

The corner of his mouth goes up.

“You’re so gracious,” he sighs.  “How will I ever be worthy of you?”

 I kiss him and we sit for a moment in quiet before I speak.

“I know this is difficult,” I say, “But please tell me.  I need to know.”

Julian nods and takes in a deep breath.

“I left the dungeons and made my way to your room.  I needed sleep and I wanted to be in your arms.  When I arrived, Asra was there, sitting outside your door, with a book.  He was alone.  You were nowhere to be seen.  He looked haggard, exhausted.  When he saw me approach, he flung down the book and stood up, his face was furious.  He said, _I wondered how long it would take you to show up._   Even when things were uneasy, he had never been hostile toward me until this moment.  I gave him a strange look then stepped past him to knock your door.  He told me you weren’t there.  I turned around and he said… He told me you…. You were… Oh, fuck, I can’t even say it…”

Julian passes a hand over his head and swallows hard.

“The last time I’d seen you… Asra said that night your left eye started to turn red,” he whispers, a tear breaking down his cheek.  “My heart dropped into my stomach, but I was sure it would stop beating altogether….  I told him to take me to you and he refused.  I fell to my knees on the ground—my legs were like water.  He told me how you began to cough, then your second eye went red the following day.  He told me he and Morgana kept you as comfortable as they could with herbs and magic, and you just wept and kept saying my name, you wanted my comfort, you coughed blood, foamed at the mouth….  He told me every detail of your agony, the bloody tears, the pain… He told me how you suffered and said I had destroyed you.  He told me it was my fault.  When I begged him again to let me see you, he told me you’d already been put on the ferry to the Lazaret to be cremated.

“I flew at him and shoved him to the ground.  It was a blur but I’m sure I landed one or two good punches before I collapsed into tears, heaving and sobbing and screaming your name on the ground as he shoved me off of him...  Asra got up and dusted off his clothes, retrieved his book….  _I want you to know how she suffered,_ he said.  _But know that I did you a kindness in keeping you from seeing her.  It was unbearable_ …”

Julian stops.  I hold him close.

“None of it was your fault,” I whisper.  “You’re not to blame.”

Julian tries to smile, and then sighs.

“It was a little more than a fortnight before I was infected, and we know the rest,” He whispers. “My only consolation was in knowing that I wouldn’t have to live without you for long.  I don’t know anything more about your resurrection, I’m afraid.”

“I wonder if Asra would tell me,” I say softly.  “Either way, thank you for telling me about us…”

He turns his head and kisses my hair.  “I love you, Sevrina.”

“I love you, Julian.  I will always love you.”

He draws me near to him and strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“I will never let you go again,” he whispers.

The conversation has shaken him.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says softly.  “I just… I don’t know how I ended up so lucky…that we’d found each other again.  It really is a second chance, and I am so grateful for it…”

He draws my mouth up to his and kisses me deeply.  When we part, he is able to smile again.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers.  “Neither of us have rested well.  Let me hold you and let’s get some sleep.”

I nod, and we rise from our seats on the sofa.  Julian’s pensive and quiet.  I pull back the covers from the bed and turn around to see him standing there awkwardly, watching me with a sad expression on his face.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“Stop that,” I say. “You’re letting your insecurities get the better of you again.  They lie.  I don’t.  You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved.”

He smiles weakly.  I wrap my arms around his waist and nuzzle into his neck.

“Let’s be happy,” I whisper.

His arms go around me and he kisses the top of my head.

“Alright,” he concedes, “I won’t sulk.  I’m sorry.”

I pull back a bit to kiss him and he seems a bit brighter.

“Cheer up, my Love,” I whisper, pulling off his shirt and climbing into the bed.  “I know just the thing to make you smile again… Tell me more about the first time we made love… I want to know everything you can remember.”

Julian smiles and starts to undress.

“You’d been there preparing after you shut the shop,” he says, “You had something fragrant on your oil burner… It was a warm, spicy smell… Your bed linens were fresh and cool.  You’d bathed and your skin smelled faintly of roses. You let the lamp burn and it cast the room in low light, but I could still see all of you… After I’d carried you in and set you down in the middle of the floor, you were smiling...  We both hesitated because we were both nervous.  You were the one to move first, and came over to me and started to unbutton my coat.  We undressed each other slowly… You’d taken off your dress and stood before me in your shift… I was there bare-chested and you stopped and touched me… you ran your hands over my shoulders and chest and kissed my throat.  You gave me gooseflesh.  I told you I loved you, you said you loved me more…. And then….”

He pauses as he climbs up onto the edge of the bed and sits, looking over me as he remembers.  His eyes look far away, and an emotion I can’t read crosses his features.

“What is it?” I ask. “What happened?”

He closes his eyes and sighs, drawing upon the memory.  “Your lovely little hands were wandering my shoulders and chest with a playful curiosity… You kissed me hungrily…  And then you asked me to guide you… You weren’t unhappy, but your hands trembled and you said you didn’t know what to do next… I nearly fell over when I realized you were telling me I was your first.”

I laugh softly at the bewilderment that echoes through him in reliving that moment, and look deeply into his eyes.

“What did you say to that?” I ask.

He reaches up to pass his long fingers through his hair, remembering the gravity of the moment.

“Oh I was absolutely terrified,” he murmurs.  “I stammered.  I told you were everything to me, I told you how desperately I desired you, how I wanted only the best experience for you and how afraid I was that you would regret it if it was with me….  I told you I was too dark, too ruined for you to give yourself to…. I confessed that before I came to Vesuvia, I’d fucked dozens whores to satisfy my appetites at ports—Both men and women—I enjoyed pain sensations and that none of the people I’d been with had ever been out of love and you hushed me… And you kissed me.  When we parted I told you I couldn’t bear to disappoint you.  You told me to shut up… _You’re my everything,_ you said…  _I know you’ve had a motley past, and I still want you.  I can do this with you and you alone. That’s why I told you.  To prove to you how much you mean to me, even if you can’t think well of yourself._

“I told you if only I could take it all back from my past I would and you shook your head.  You told me to stop regretting the things that brought me to who and where I was in that moment.  You put your hand over my heart and said, _Ilya, you lived through who you were to become who you are—and I love who you are._ That stunned me. Your hand was  over my heart… I put my hand over yours and I stared at you a moment in disbelief.  You admitted you were afraid I wouldn’t enjoy myself with you because you were inexperienced.  You asked me if I still wanted you in the light of your admission.  I told you I wanted you more than anything.  You said you wanted me too, and that you trusted me completely.  You drew me into a deep kiss, and my uncertainty melted away.  I knew nothing I had been in the past could cheapen my worth to you.  You asked me if it was alright to continue.  I nodded my head and said yes…”

He closes his eyes in delight of the memory.

“Your hands slid to my waist and you began to unfasten my trousers.   I couldn’t take my eyes off you.  After another moment, I was standing in the middle of your bedroom floor, naked and nervous…. You told me I was beautiful.  I took a step closer to you and my hands went to the straps of your shift and I gingerly slid them down your shoulders…  We kissed as you wriggled your arms out and I slid the shift down over your hips until it fell to the floor and you stepped out of it.  Then I looked at you, the most gorgeous sight I’d ever seen… You pulled back the covers on the bed, and then I lifted you into my arms again and laid you down on your mattress.  I climbed over you, we kissed for ages, my heart was pounding so hard I thought for sure you could hear it….”

Julian lays back and opens his arms to me.  I slide up against his side, drawing the covers up over us.  I curl myself into his arms and settle into the crook of his shoulder and hug him tight around the middle.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

“You said that then, too,” he chuckles, making me laugh.  He gazes into my eyes warmly.

“I love you,” I say softly, smiling at the mischief in his eyes.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he replies happily.

“Tell me more,” I say, and nuzzle into his cheek.  “I want to know everything.”

“I asked you what you wanted me to do,” he says, “I was nervous and I didn’t want to overwhelm or hurt you...  You took my hands to your breasts and asked me to follow my heart…. For a long while, I kissed and caressed you, always asking permission before the next step, and after the initial jitters had subsided and you were enjoying my hands and kisses you started to wander me….  I served you first with my mouth until the air sparkled around us, and thrilled at your dazzling pleasure…. After which, you wanted me to slide inside…. You were so avid…. You were so slick and warm…  I took it slowly at first….  You murmured loving words to me.…  I loved you until you closed your eyes and crested, and your sweet, rhythmic contractions drew me over the edge.… We were a heap of panting breath and rosy cheeks and trembling kisses.  When you opened your eyes again, you looked at me and smiled and we kissed and kissed until I withdrew from you and started to weep….Oh Sevrina that moment was one of such pure, star-blessed love…. I knew then that I’d never be the same.”

He looks into my eyes and pets my hair.

“I will love you until there is nothing left of me,” I whisper.

He smiles softly.  “And I am yours until there’s nothing left of me.”

He kisses me sweetly and caresses my cheek.  I close my eyes and cherish the touch until I can no longer supress a yawn.  Julian chuckles softly.

“Go to sleep, Kitten,” he whispers.  “I love you.”

“I love you,” I mutter, and settle in to him.  He drags his fingers comfortingly over my hair until I slip away into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgana is my sister's apprentice, and I wanted to incorporate her in, too :)


	22. The Sun:  The Call for Aid

I wake slowly, for once.  It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve been so relaxed.  Julian is lying next to me, his head on my shoulder and the fingers of his branded hand fiddle idly with a lock of my hair over my breast.  He is already awake, his breathing is steady and calm.  When he realizes I’m waking he cranes his neck up and nuzzles into my ear.

“Good morning,” he purrs.

I stretch languidly and groan.  He pulls himself up onto his elbow and looks down at me warmly, chuckling lowly as he brushes his fingers lightly over my cheek.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks quietly.

“Gods, yes,” I say with a lazy smile.  “Mmm… I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly… Did you sleep?”

“I did,” he whispers.  “I slept well, and I’ve been awake for…I’d say a half an hour or so, just enjoying being beside you.”

He reaches up to kiss me and I yield freely to it.  When we part, he nuzzles his nose against mine.   I look into his eyes and feel awed by the love swelling in my heart for him as he strokes my cheek with his fingers.

“I never want to leave this bed,” I whisper.  “I could stay here with you forever.”

“Mmm…  That would be heaven,” he agrees, touching is forehead to mine. “But we can’t.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Is there anything I can get you?” He asks, sensing my tension.  “Anything you need?”

“No, Julian, thank you,” I say softly, gazing up into his eyes.  “How are you feeling?”

He looks at me questioningly.  “How do you mean, Love?”

I sigh and press my cheek into his caressing hand.

“Am I ready to fight the Devil?” He asks, catching on to my train of thought.

“Julian, I’m scared to death,” I whisper.

“I know, Little Sparrow,” he sighs.  “It’s daunting as Hell… But I told you before I’d follow you through Hell, didn’t I?”

I can feel my chin quiver.  He kisses my forehead.

“Are you afraid, too?” I whimper.

He draws back to look at me.

“I’m more afraid than I have ever been in my life,” he admits.  “I don’t know what we’re up against.  But we’ve made it this far—that can only be a positive sign.”

I put my arms around his neck and cling to him a moment.  He pets my hair comfortingly.

“I love you,” he whispers.  “I love you, Sevrina, that’s what’s getting me through this.”

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper.  “I love you so much I’ll fight the Devil for you…”

He pulls back and smiles.  “ _We_ will fight the Devil,” he whispers.  “We will fight together.  Sevrina, you helped me see a way that I could find happiness, a path forwards.  I want to walk that path with you to the very end.  No matter what happens, I want you to know—be sure in your heart—that I love you.  I don’t care about the trials and tribulations along the way, I know we can make it.  When I stumble, you’ll be there for me, just like I’ll be there for you.  We’re stronger together.  Strong enough to face the future, come what may, and I _will_ give you that future.”

I smile despite my fears.

“Just think,” he says with an encouraging smile, “I’ll set up a practice, you’ll work in your shop, and we will take extensive holidays… I’ll buy the boat and sail you anywhere you want to go… We’ll make love in every country in the hemisphere—What do you say?  Worth fighting the Devil for?”

I laugh softly and reach up to touch his cheek.

“Well,” I say mischievously, “You _do_ like getting rowdy.”

Julian laughs boisterously and pulls himself up from me.

“Now you’re talking!” He says, flinging the covers off and getting out of bed.  When he’s standing before me, naked as can be, he strikes an exaggerated, heroic pose.  “Let’s put the Devil in his place, Sevrina!”

I’m laughing at him so hard my ribs begin to ache—Clearly the effect he was hoping to have, since he’s smiling so broadly.  He changes poses a few times to keep me laughing and then, when I’m wiping away tears he comes back to the bedside and leans in, chuckling lowly in his throat, and nuzzles my nose.

“Gods, that laugh of yours,” he says, still chuckling, “I love that sound so much…. I’ll make you laugh every day…”

I reach up and pass my hand over his head.

“Oh, you make me feel so brave,” I whisper.  “Thank you, Julian.”

He kisses me and then stands up again, and begins to rummage around for his trousers.  When he finds them, he begins to tug them up his legs, and I haul myself up from the bed and begin to dress myself.

“I have a feeling it won’t be long before we’re back to Vesuvia,” Julian says with an air of confidence.  “It won’t be long before things settle down and the danger is passed…”

He shrugs into his shirt as I pull the underslip of my dress back over myself.  I’m trying hard to focus on our future.  He continues to rattle off encouragements as we dress and when we finish, he draws me into his arms and holds me flush against him, looking down into my eyes.

“You keep me brave, too,” he whispers.  “You keep me brave, too.”

I smile, stroking his cheek and reaching up for a kiss.  I cast a last look over the room and sigh.

“This will be ours, won’t it?” I say softly.

He smiles.  “Of course… The sooner we get back, the sooner we can save up for this boat, hmm?  Let’s go throw a wrench in the Devil’s plans so I can sail you away with me to Nevivon for a true escape.”

He presses a kiss to my temple, and we steel ourselves during a final, indulgent moment before Julian opens the door to the Captain’s quarters.  I don’t see the ship beyond it—Instead, there’s the sparkling sand and sea of the Magician’s realm, just as Death promised us.

“Julian, I’m still scared,” I whisper.

“So am I,” he replies, taking my hand and interlacing our fingers.  “But we can do this…  Nothing can beat us if we are together.”

I nod my head and gather up my courage.  “Yes… I broke a chain once… We can do this… We can do this.”

Julian takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and grins at me. 

“Alright, Sevrina,” he says with a determined air as he takes my hand.  “We have a Devil to stop.”

Hand in hand, we step through the door.

The glittering vista of the Magician’s realm spreads out around us, though the Magician is nowhere to be seen.

“What did Death say to do?” Julian asks.

“They said to call out to our friends and to trust that they’d answer.”

I take a moment to draw upon my strength, calling upon my magic and letting it swell in my lungs as I take deep, concentrating breaths.

“Asra!” I call out with all my might.  My voice echoes out over the water.  

Nothing.  Only silence answers. 

I draw in a quick breath, the lack of response is so terrifying I feel a pang and clutch my breast, trying to still myself from hyperventilating.  My knees wobble, my paralyzing fear stealing my strength. 

Julian reaches his arm around me and runs his hand up and down my back reassuringly, holding my arm to help steady me.

“It’s probably just the music at the Masquerade,” Julian says.  “It’s a loud party, so perhaps he didn’t hear.  Just try again, Kitten.  He’ll answer.”

I smile at him, grateful for the reassurance and nod my head.  I can’t let myself give in to doubt.  Not now.  After all, Death said I have to call, and _trust_ that he’ll answer.  I take a moment to gather my strength again, and with another deep breath, I call out again.

“Asra!”

A whisper of magic sweeps over the sand behind us.  I turn just in time to see a door form on the sand.

It’s a door from the palace, carved from white marble and strung with colourful garlands.  A moment later, it swings open and Asra steps through in a rush.  When he sees us, he smiles.

“Sevrina! He shouts, rushing forward to embrace me.

“Asra!” I say, squeezing him tight and struggling to supress my tears, “My Brother, you’re alright…!”

“Don’t worry about me, Sevrina,” he says, laughing softly, “Don’t worry, I’m fine, I swear…”

“You left so suddenly last time,” Julian says, “Is everything alright?

Asra pulls back from our fierce hug to acknowledge Julian with a pat to the shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that,” Asra says.  “Lucio was causing a crisis as usual… But Portia gave me a hand—The fires are out, and I’m here now.”

“Portia helped you?” Julian asks, concern breaking his calm.  “Please, Asra… Is she alright?”

Asra smiles reassuringly.  “She’s just fine.  She said she’s stashed your body somewhere it won’t be discovered, and not to worry.”

“Oh, thank Gods,” Julian sighs, sagging with relief, tension easing out of his shoulders.  Then he rallies, taking a deep breath and facing Asra. “Listen… Before we get into everything, there’s something I want to say to you.”

“What is it, Ilya?”  Asra asks.

“Asra… I’m sorry.”

Asra looks stunned, and casts a quick glance at me for clarification before he returns his gaze to Julian.

“It was irresponsible of me not to be there for Sevrina when we were working on the plague cure,” Julian says.  “I was neglectful… I failed her, and she paid the price…  I swear to you that I will never again make such a mistake… Sevrina’s best interests are my highest priority… She’s my life, my world… I will never let her down again… I know you’re her brother and you’re protective of her.  I want you to know without a doubt I will do anything to see her to safety, and I will take care of her until I die… I’ll never forgive myself for not being there for her.  But I hope that you can.”

The regret in Julian’s voice is sincere and honest, with none of his usual penchant for theatrics.

“Ilya, what prompted this?” Asra asks softly.

“A lot has happened since we last saw you,” Julian explains.  “It’s had me thinking about the people I care about, past and present… You and I were good friends once, and I’d like for us to be friends again.  And even if we can’t be, I don’t want to leave old hurts to fester any longer.  For all our sakes.  I hope you can forgive me.”

“Sevrina’s death was agonizing for all of us,” Asra says, spreading his hands.  “I was very reactionary and that wasn’t fair of me…  You didn’t intend to hurt anyone, least of all her, and I shouldn’t have blamed you for it… I know you love her, Ilya. I’ve always known… I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.  I can see how you and Sevrina bring out each other’s strengths, and I’m so glad you’re here for her… I was grieving my sister and I acted defensively then, for both myself and… For Morgana… I’m sorry, too.”

Julian smiles and holds out his hand to Asra.  “Let bygones be bygones?”

Asra takes his hand and they shake.  “And let the past be past.”

Asra pulls Julian into a fierce hug, catching Julian off guard.  I laugh at his bewildered face, and when they part, Asra looks at me as if he is waiting for a reaction.

“Tell her who Morgana is, Asra,” Julian says softly.  “I’ve told her that Morgana was your lover.  But the rest wasn’t for me to say… Please tell her.”

I look at Julian with a questioning expression.  There is something more to this woman, and it’s clearly very important…

Asra reaches out to me, beckoning me to his side.  I step closer and he hugs me tightly.  When he pulls back, there’s a look on his face I can’t decipher.

“Sister, this isn’t hurting your head?” He asks.  “You’re sure?”

“No, Asra,” I say softly.  “I promise I’m fine.  Who is she?”

“Sevrina… Morgana’s your sister.”

I take in a shaking breath and a hand flies to my mouth as I stare at Asra.  Julian steps behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

“My _sister_?” I breathe.

Asra nods his head.  “Your headaches were so bad that she couldn’t stay in Vesuvia with us while you recovered...  I’m not sure why you were able to be around me, but not her… I think it’s because I conducted the ritual that brought you back, but that’s speculative… She’s been going through the Magical Realms trying to find a way to repair your memories all this time.”

I reach out and weakly grab at his sleeve.

“I have a _sister_ , Asra?”

He nods and puts his arms around me again.

“Yes, and we’ve been betrothed since before the plague struck Vesuvia… I love her very much and she misses you so much….”

“You’re still together…?”

“Yes,” he heaves, a faint tremor running through his arms.

I cling to my Brother’s shoulders and squeeze hard.  My eyes are welling up.

“Oh, Asra,” I whisper, tears breaking down my cheeks, “You have given up so much to help me…”

“It’s been like living with half my heart,” he says, “But I’d do it again for you both…”

“Can she come back?”  I ask.

Asra laughs lowly and I feel it rumble in his chest.

“Oh, I will bring her back as quickly as I can now that I know for sure it won’t hurt you… I’ll bring her back right away…”

“Could she help us?” Julian asks softly.  “We need help… We have a plan…”

Asra listens intently as we recount our encounters with the Star, Valdemar, and Death.

“Now we need to gather people who are connected to us, and strengthen my magic to defeat the Devil,” I explain.

“You can come and go from this world as you like, can’t you, Asra?” Julian asks.  “Can you bring people with you?”

Asra nods.  “I can—who did you have in mind?”

Julian takes a breath.  “Portia for sure… Mazelinka, and Nazali—er—Doctor Satrinava... If you find Portia again, she ought to know how to find Mazelinka….”

“And Morgana, if she’ll come,” I add.

Asra nods.  “Alright… but who is Nazali Satrinava?  I don’t know them.”

“They were definitely at the palace when we saw them last,” Julian says softly.  “One of Nadia’s sisters.”

“They were wearing an elephant mask,” I say, hoping the information is helpful.  “Maybe Portia could find them, too?”

Asra nods.  “I’ll find them.”

Julian grabs Asra by the arm urgently.  “Asra, please tell them everything.  Make sure they know this is dangerous… I want them to know what they’re getting into before they choose to come.”

Asra looks at him seriously.  “I’ll tell them, Ilya.  You can depend on me.  Just be careful until I get back.”

Asra steps away from us and looks at me before going through the door.

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” he says.  “I promise.”

He goes back through the door and I catch a strain of music before it swings shut.

Julian lets out a slow breath, settling back on his heels and looking at his feet.  I feel a warm surge of pride in my chest—He’s letting people in.  He’s grown. 

“Julian?”

He looks up at me.  “Hmm?”

I put my arms around his middle.  “I’m proud of you.”

He looks at me questioningly.

“Why?”

“I know how difficult it’s been for you to accept help,” I say as I brush his hair back from his eyes, “So… I’m proud of you.”

He cracks a smile and looks fondly at me as he puts his hands on either side of my face.

“You taught me that, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “With you as my example, I feel like I could do anything.  You’ve taught me that strength has no rigid definition… Sometimes strength is asking for help.”

I press my cheek into his shoulder and he puts his arms around me, one around my back and the other holding the back of my head.  He presses little kisses into my hair.

“Julian, I have a _sister_ ,” I whisper.

I feel a low rumble of laughter in his chest.

“You do,” he whispers, “And she loves you something fierce.  It will be good to see you together again… She must—”  

He doesn’t finish his sentence before the door swings open again and a red-headed blur barrels through and crashes full force into him, knocking him over onto his back into the sand.

“Oof!”

“Ilya, you little shit!” Portia shouts, pummelling him with half-hearted, sisterly punches, “This is the last time I let you go haring off on adventures without me!  You’re fucking impossible!”

She gets to her feet and pulls him up to standing only to hug him so fiercely I swear she lifts him off the sand.  He groans as if his ribs are creaking in the wake of her surprising strength.

It’s only now that Portia sees something other than her brother.  She’s dazzled.

“Oh my Gods,” she breathes as she lets go of him, her head darting this way and that to take it all in.  She takes two running steps towards the sparkling ocean and then jolts to a halt as Mazelinka jerks the back of her costume.

“Not so fast, Pasha!” She exclaims, “What did I tell you about going off by yourself?”

Julian starts to laugh as the realization hits him.  He’s called for them, and they’ve come.  Beaming, he scoops the two of them into an all-encompassing hug, and then he reels me into it, too.  We are all pressed together, a tangle of elbows and hair and laughter.

“Oh, thank you,” he whispers, “Thank you, thank you….”

“For what, Ilya?” Portia asks.

“You came,” He sighs happily, pulling back from the embrace to look each of them in the face.  “You came…”

“Of course we came,” Portia laughs, “As if anyone could keep us away!  And Asra says he will be back as quickly as possible with Doctor Satrinava and Morgana.  Who is Morgana?”

“Well,” Julian says, passing a hand over his hair, “She’s Asra’s lover, and Sevrina’s sister...  Oh I hope she isn’t far.  I hope they’re back soon… He told you everything, didn’t he?  That this is dangerous?  That we’re trying to stop the Devil?”

Mazelinka scoffs.  “The Devil.  If that goat bitch tries to lay a finger on any of you, he’ll have me to answer to!”

Portia laughs, then resumes looking around.  Her eyes are alight with eager curiosity.

“I can’t believe this place,” she says, “Just look at these colours...”

She skips across the sand to take in the magical realm with unashamed, childlike fascination.

“Not too far, Pasha!” Mazelinka calls out.  “We have to be here when Asra gets back!”

“I know, I know!” Portia replies, “But just look at all of this!  When Asra said it was a magic realm, I knew it would be amazing, but… this is _amazing_!”

She flings her arms wide, taking in the multihued ocean, the sparkling sand and the glittering clouds gathering in the sky.  She spins in circles with her arms out, suffused with irrepressible delight.

“It’s amazing!” she repeats happily, then makes her way back toward us, but just at the water’s edge.

Overhead, the dark clouds gather, heavy with the promise of rain.

“You always did love the beach, Pasha,” Julian says, smiling nostalgically.  “Do you remember all the sandcastles we used to build?”

Portia laughs in feigned disgust.  “Yes, and I remember a certain gangly teenager knocking them all down!”

“Oho?” Julian challenges, “I suppose I imagined you knocking them down with me, then, hmm?”

Portia’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“I’d never do that,” she says, “Just like I’d never do… this!”

Quick as a striking cobra, Portia splashes seawater at Julian, leaving him sputtering, then his eyes narrow in intent of mischievous revenge.

“Now you’ve done it, Pasha!” he laughs, diving after her only to land face-first in the water when she leaps out of the way.  He manages to recover quickly enough to tackle her knees, and she topples into the water, whooping with laughter.

I can’t repress my smile and Mazelinka _tsks_ fondly, watching Julian and Portia splash in the surf.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” she muses, “They’ve been getting into trouble ever since they were big enough to get tangled around my ankles.”

I blink, surprised.  I knew Mazelinka had known them for a long time, but that long?

“How did you meet them?” I ask.

She chuckles, gesturing for me to stand nearer to her.  When I come closer, she puts one of her arms around my back motheringly.

“Since you’re a part of this family now, I’ll tell you,” she says, winking up at me.  “It was a long time ago.  I was sailing for Nevivon—I used to go a few times a year, to visit Lilinka… She was village elder, and the love of my life…. We talked about my moving there, but there always seemed to be a reason that kept me from it… but my regrets are beside the point…  That summer, the sea was rougher than I’d ever seen.  Before I knew it, I was in the thick of a storm as black as the Devil’s heart… I’ve never seen its like since… I’m sure you’ve heard tales about that storm… It was unnaturally powerful.  There’s still rumours about what caused it.”

I nod my head.  I have heard stories about a supernatural storm in the south some years ago…

“A dozen ships sank that night,” Mazelinka continues.  “It descended too fast and too unpredictably to be prepared for.  I nearly went overboard two or three times myself… When I finally made it to Nevivon, I saw wreckage from a less fortunate ship just off the bay, and there, stumbling up the beach, was a young boy with wild hair, crying and holding his baby sister…”

The sound of splashing has stopped.  Portia and Julian are listening avidly.

“Come on, you two,” Mazelinka laughs, “This is the part of the story where you come in.”

Portia scuttles to her feet and lends Julian a hand up, and they draw in a close circle with us.

“I was too little to remember it,” Portia says softly.

Julian puts a comforting arm around her.

“All we had was each other,” he says sombrely.  “I don’t know how long we would have lasted without you, Mazelinka.”

Julian ruffles Portia’s hair affectionately to break the heavy mood.  Portia, in good form, elbows him in the ribs.  Mazelinka chuckles to herself.

“I brought them to Lilinka,” Mazelinka says softly.  “Once the weather cleared, I was back out on the open ocean again.”

“The town’s grandmas took us in,” Julian says, moving to my side.  “They raised us and a group of other orphans together in a big group.  Mazelinka was an honorary grandma.”

Mazelinka nods.  “And every few months I’d come back to see them all.  These two were my favourites.”

“I always looked forward to seeing those black sails in the distance,” Julian says nostalgically.

“And every time, these rapscallions would ask if they would run off and be pirates with me,” Mazelinka laughs.

Portia’s eyes light up.  “Oh, I remember that!  And you always said—”

“Not until you’re tall enough to reach the rigging!” The three of them say in unsion, causing everyone to burst into laughter. 

“But then they just started asking me to teach them how to fight, instead,” Mazelinka chuckles.

Julian’s chest shakes with his laughter.

“I was always swinging sticks around, imagining they were swords,” he begins to explain.

“And once I saw that terrible technique, I had to correct it!” Mazelinka chimes in, “That’s how bad habits get made!”

Julian feigns a blow to his pride.  “That hurts, Mazelinka!  Wasn’t I a great student?”

“You had the reach,” Mazelinka says matter-of-factly, “But nothing else!”

Julian pretends to be hurt, clutching his chest and swooning dramatically.  Snorting with laughter, Portia trips him, sending him flailing back into the water.

“Pasha was too small for swords then,” Mazelinka laughs, “But I gave her a slingshot and then nobody was safe.”

“I hit what I was aiming at!” Portia protests, “At least, most of the time!”

“Once they were big enough,” Mazelinka continues, “I started taking them with me on little trips, teaching them sailing.”

“I got tangled up in the rigging plenty,” Julian admits, “But I got the hang of it eventually!”

“But we’ve got a long way to go before we’re as fearsome as the Dread Pirate Mazelinka!” Portia teases, then begins splashing Julian again.  They resume their water fight in earnest, squealing and shouting in enjoyment of their play-fight.  Mazelinka puts her arm around me again.

“When he brought you into my house that day, I was shocked.  I didn’t know you were alive.  I didn’t know you’d lost your memories, too….”

“Did you know me before?” I ask, suddenly breathless in the realization.

“I did,” she says softly, patting my back.  “Ilya brought you to see me many times.  I lived in Goldgrave then, near where the community theatre is… He would bring you to visit when you had time to spare on an odd afternoon.  I came to think of you as part of the family—I felt you’d marry him, and I knew he’d be taken care of… And then…”

She trails off. 

“And then I died,” I finish for her.

She nods.  “He was inconsolable… In all my years, I’ve never seen someone weep the way he did when he came to tell me you were gone...  He wailed.  He beat himself with his fists.  Nothing I did could provide even the smallest comfort… I’ve never seen grief so engulfing, and I pray to the Gods I never will again…  I really thought he would kill himself… He told me eventually that he was going to find the cure or die trying.  He said he needed to do it for you, he owed it to you, even though it was too late to save you.  Then he went to the palace and I didn’t see him again until after the fire, when he came to me in the middle of the night asking for passage out of Vesuvia.  His memories of the time he knew and loved you were gone, and now he’d acquired a magic curse somehow…

“My first priority was getting him out of Vesuvia.  I took him to Macawi Port.  I knew he spoke the language and he would be able to hide out until the search parties were called off.  He wandered on his own for two years before he went to Nevivon, searching for Pasha.  When he got there, he found that I’d taken her to Vesuvia to find him—Neither of us knew where he was at that point, and she’d been searching all of the port cities she could get to in the south, but rumours—and they were only rumours then—pointed her to Vesuvia.  He used to write her constantly, and stopped when you died…  Only once she’d started working at the palace—and bonded with the Countess—did she find out about Ilya’s connection to the Count’s death…

“At any rate, he told me he wanted to know what was in his missing memories, and decided that if he was responsible for the murder, he’d turn himself in for execution.  I told him I would help him find his answers.  When we returned to Vesuvia, he stayed at my house, but you know that… He wanted to see Pasha—they had remained very close, even after he left Nevivon, and he missed her terribly.  He always sent letters and little gifts.  I knew she was working at the palace but it was too dangerous for him to go there… I asked him to have patience until we formulated a plan to get her to come to him.

“In spending so much time with him in my house, I saw very quickly that his despair hadn’t lessened…. Even though he couldn’t remember you or your death, he pined, and he grieved.  He said his sorrow was _uncrossable_.  He was worse at night than during the day.  He paced.  He drank.  He hardly slept.  He said he didn’t see the point of living.  One night he said, _Something more than just the memories is missing.  Something within them is gone, and with it my happiness has gone forever._ It broke my heart to hear him talk that way, but I couldn’t bear to tell him about you.  I couldn’t stand seeing the poor boy weep that way again, beating his head with his fists….

“And then one night not all that long ago, he set out to find the Magician.  He thought he’d get some answers.  I’ll never forget his face when he came in again.  He said that Asra wasn’t there, that he’d spoken to the shopkeep, she’d seemed familiar.  At the time I thought he was talking about the Magician’s lady, but it was you, of course.  His head was thumping.  I couldn’t get him to talk about it.  He only asked me to boil some water—The young woman had given him harpweed and dried whitethistle.  He said he wanted to sleep, and after he took the tea from those two ingredients, he went straight to bed.  He seemed lost in thought for days after that.  Some part of his heart remembered you.”

“And mine remembered him,” I whisper.  “I was haunted by him after that night.  My dreams spun with his image…”

“He was haunted, too,” Mazelinka says.  “His nightmares were worse.  His heartache was worse.  His headaches were worse.  And then, after being out at the Rowdy Raven a few nights after going to your shop, he came home, breathless and slumped against the door with a smile on his face.  I hadn’t seen him smile so earnestly in years.  I asked him what on earth the matter was, and he said, _Mazelinka_ , _I’ve met a girl._

“I thought for the first time since you’d died that there was a chance at healing his broken heart.  I asked what the girl’s name was, you can imagine my surprise when he said _Sevrina_ … Now, I had never met another Sevrina, but I had a strange feeling… And it _was_ you, my dear.  You had come back—Gods know how— and I hoped and prayed that he would remember.  And eventually he did.”

Mazelinka’s eyes well up, but she is smiling.  I pat her arm comfortingly.

“Nothing is ever going to take me away from him again,” I whisper.  “I promise.”

“Do you understand, Sevrina? Distance, time, memory loss, death…  None of it could keep you apart.  The bond of your souls is too strong.”

“I’m grateful for that,” I whisper, fighting back tears.

“You understand how much he loves you, then?”  Mazelinka murmurs.  “You know he would die for you without question?”

I nod.  “I know he would… And I won’t let him.”

Mazelinka hugs me tight from the side.

“I hope to the Gods we all come to the other side of this intact,” she whispers.

I squeeze her back.  “I will do all I can to protect him.  I swear I will.  All the evils of the world will have to go through me….”

She smiles up at me.  “Thank you, Sevrina…. I’m so very happy you’re back with our family.”

We watch Portia and Julian wrestle and splash on the sand and Mazelinka begins to chuckle.

“Lilinka used to call them her little adventurers,” she sighs, “Though this is probably more adventure than she expected… If she could see us now, maybe she’d be yelling at me to take these two and run for safety, but I’d like to think she’d support us.  After all, we’re all here, together… And that includes you, Sevrina.  She would have loved you.  She would have been so happy to see what you’ve done to Ilya.”

Surprised and touched, all I can do is return Mazelinka’s smile.

“It looks like a storm’s coming in,” she says, eyeing the ever-more-ominous clouds.  “Hoi—You two!”

Lightning flashes.  In its wake, the sky looks like it’s been literally cracked open.  Rain pours from the fissures, sizzling on the sand.  The wind picks up, whipping the waves into a frenzy.

“Pasha, come on!” Julian shouts.  Portia grabs Julian’s hand, pulling him behind her as she runs for shore.  Julian flies to my side as they reach us.  Just as he takes my hand, I smell ozone, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  The next fork of lightning strikes the ocean, so blindingly close that it leaves me blinking spots from my vision.

When it clears, the Devil is standing in the water.  The sea churns around his cloven feet, inky blackness spreading outward and tainting the water.

“Sevrina, Sevrina, Sevrina,” he tuts, walking towards us, “You’ve been up to no good, haven’t you?”

Portia has gone tense, her fists raised defensively.

“Sevrina… is that—?”

The Devil turns fiery eyes on her, and he affects a surprised look.

“Why, I see some new faces,” he mutters.  “Don’t tell me you were planning on pulling all these innocent people into your mess.”

Mazelinka points her finger. “Now listen here, you f—”

"Now, now,” the Devil chides, “Let’s not say anything you’ll regret.”

He reaches out with a black-tipped claw, making a twisting gesture.  Around us, everything goes dark.  I hear Portia and Mazelinka screaming, shouting, but their voices distort before they disappear into darkness.

I’m terrified.

In the next moment, Julian and I are alone in the sea of shadows, facing the Devil.

“There we go,” the Devil says insidiously.  “Much better.”

“What did you do to them?” Julian shouts forcefully.

“Don’t look so alarmed,” the Devil says with a roll of his eyes, “I’ve merely sent them away.  They’re unharmed.  For now.” 

The Devil’s face contorts into a malignant grin. 

“Besides,” he says, taking a step nearer to Julian, “Shouldn’t you be more worried about what I’m going to do to you?”

From the shadows, chains lash out at us, striking with blinding speed.  The next moments are a chaotic blur.  Magic leaps to my hands and I cast a shield spell, deflecting the first wave, but the attack is relentless.  Chains hammer on the shield from all angles and with a musical crash, it shatters under the onslaught.  Cold metal wraps around my wrist, but I manage to pull free.

“Look out!” Julian shouts, but another chain catches my ankle and a third curls around my arm.  More and more grab me until I’m completely trapped, and my heart is in my throat.  I can’t get to Julian.  He pulls on the fetters binding him, but he can’t get loose, and I can’t get to him.  I can’t get to him, and I’m terrified.

The Devil tuts.  “Are you done already?  Such a disappointment.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask desperately.

“Why do anything?” he says mockingly.  “Because it entertained me.”

“Wait, wait,” Julian says exasperatedly, “All of this… All of this is because you were _bored_?”

The Devil turns his gaze directly at Julian.  “You don’t know what it’s like, you humans with your mayfly lives.  You live and die in the blink of an eye.  You barely even have the time to understand how powerless you are.”

“Oh, get a hobby!” Julian snarls.

The Devil laughs.  “Oh, but don’t you see, Doctor?  This _is_ my hobby.  If nothing else, humans are, at least, entertaining.  Ever since your ancestors crawled out of the muck, you’ve spent your miserable lives climbing over each other.  You want and you want and you want, and when all the strength you can muster isn’t enough, you turn to me.”

He walks closer until he is face to face with Julian and smiles at him insidiously.

“When you asked for the power to defeat your enemies, to overthrow tyrants and squash dissidents, I was there.  When you coveted your neighbour’s land, jewels, fame, talent, I was there.  And when _you_ wanted to stop the plague, well, you understand, don’t you?”

The Devil steps over to me and caresses my cheek with the backside of his claws.  I can see Julian struggling against his chains, to no avail.

“I’m simply taking this charade to its logical conclusion,” the Devil says.  “And if you’d only sat quietly and behaved, you would have survived to see it.  But now… whatever am I going to do with you?”

He looks between us before his gaze settles back on me, his eyes burning like coals.

“You first, I think,” he says with an unsettling laugh.  “After all, your lover’s reaction to your fear and pain is so deliciously entertaining.”

He drifts closer to me, his smile promising something deeply unpleasant.

“Pick on someone your own size, you paunchy, cud-chewing cunt!”  Julian screams, struggling against his chains. 

The silence after his words seems far too loud.  The Devil turns his head to look at him slowly.

“You had to split us up before you’d fight us, didn’t you?” Julian spits in an acidic, mocking tone.   “What, are you scared?  You lily-livered, bilge-sucking, chicken-shit waste of skin!”

All I can do is stare, listening to him fling insult after colourful insult at our captor, and then my brain catches up and fear seizes me.  The Devil turns away from me, regarding Julian with mild amusement.  He lifts a clawed hand and makes an idle gesture, and although Julian’s finished flinging insults, he is positively snarling.

“Don’t!” I shout.  “Don’t hurt him! Please!  _Julian_!”

The Devil glances at me, and in his expression, I see only the idle curiosity of a bored child.  He twists his black claws in the air in a clenching motion and Julian is left gasping for air, struggling to breathe at all.

“Julian!” I scream in horror as I struggle against my chains.  “Julian!”

The Devil chuckles lowly. “What are you going to do about it, little magician?”

There’s only one thing I can do.  Fight. 

I draw on the magic that I used against Valdemar.  The power to break the Devil’s chains.

The Devil tsks indulgently at me as though I’m a misbehaving child.

“Do you really think that will work?” he asks, amazed that I’m tenacious enough to try.

I know it’s not going to work.  I don’t have any hope of overpowering the Devil himself, not on my own.   But I can’t reach Julian, and he’s going redder and redder in the face.   I can’t reach anyone.  Even so… I can’t just hang here and do nothing.

The Devil drops his hand, leaving Julian to cough and splutter as he regains his breath.  My captor looks between the two of us, his lip curling with that terrible, sadistic amusement.  And then the chains trapping me flare red hot.  For a moment, they almost feel cold, and then they burn, searing my skin and tearing a scream from my throat.

Still gasping, Julian manages to suck in a lung full of hair.

“Sevrina!” He screams, “Sevrina, no!”

The Devil rolls his eyes again.  “Oh, enough with shouting each other’s names! Don’t you have anything more interesting to say?”

He seems wholly unconcerned, secure in the knowledge that neither of us can do anything to stop him.

“Well, I suppose this is as much as I can expect from the two of you,” the Devil says, folding his arms, “A walking dead magician and a washed-up doctor who couldn’t save her—couldn’t even be a murderer.”

The Devil laughs lowly to himself, a laugh that rises to a more intense level before he focuses in on Julian once more.

“You’re pathetic,” the Devil says, “Weak.  Worthless.  You’ll never amount to more than failure.”

Julian looks him straight in the eyes.

“You’re wrong,” he says strongly.  “You’ll always be wrong.”

“Oh, pray, tell how?” the Devil says mockingly.

“When I came back to Vesuvia, I was lost,” Julian says with unwavering strength.  “I was a wreck of a man, stumbling from one disaster to the next.  I _was_ weak.    And washed-up.  And a failure.  And then I met Sevrina.”

Julian’s eyes meet mine.

“When I saw you on the aqueduct, I thought, ah, here’s another unfortunate soul.  I didn’t understand why I was so drawn to you, or why you saw something good in me, even then.  I tried so many times to drive you away _for your own good_ but really I was just afraid.  I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t know that I could trust you.  All the futures I could imagine, they all ended in pain, and I didn’t want that.  For either of us.”

Julian looks at me, and manages, somehow, to smile.  I can’t take my eyes off of him.

“Sevrina, I love you… You’re my Salvation.”

“Julian, I love you,” I cry, “I love you…”

“I would die for you, Sevrina.”


	23. Judgement

The situation couldn’t be direr.  Julian and I are alone, separated from Portia and Mazelinka and all our friends.  We’re lost in a magical darkness, and trapped by the Devil’s enchanted chains.  The Devil could kill us any time he wanted.

Despite that, despite everything, Julian is looking at me with intense love.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he says desperately.  “I would die for you.”

“But Julian, would you _live_ for me?” I plead.

Julian looks absurdly surprised, and then he somehow finds it in him to let out a soft laugh.

“Of course I would, Sevrina.  I would do anything for you.”

“Then _live for me_ ,” I heave, tears streaming down my cheeks hotly.  “Live for me, Julian, no more self-sacrifice, no more trying to shield me—Live for me.  Live _with_ me.”

“Yes, Sevrina, I will.”

With this promise, I feel lighter, brighter, as if the love welling up within me could lift me into the air.

And then I feel it.  He is sending me his magic.

“Are you finished yet?” The Devil grumbles, “I know you humans like to prattle, but this is a bit much.  I think it’s about time I finished things here.”

The chains around me constrict with crushing force.  My ribs groan under the pressure as the breath is throttled out of me.  The pain is so intense that I can’t cry out.  My lungs are burning and I am unable to inhale again.

“Sevrina, I’m here,” Julian shouts, never letting the focus of his magic slip.  “We’re together… I’m here!  We’ll make it!”

He sounds so fierce, so certain of our success.  It makes me feel like I could do anything.

It makes me feel like I could defeat an Arcana.

I still myself and let his magic flow into me.  I feel a renewed surge of pride, joy and affection.  He’s come so far since I first met him, and I can feel his magic growing ever stronger.  The current of power that flows from Julian to me gives me strength.  Bolstered by our connection, our love, and our determination to see the future we have been longing for, the power seems to flow freely and easily from him.  Julian’s expression is one of excitement, hope and unhidden astonishment—He is able to feel it, too.

The chains around me convulse, and then loosen.  I can suck in a breath, and I waste no time seizing the momentary advantage to work a hand free enough to grab one of the chains.

“Yes!”  Julian shouts.  “Break it, Sevrina!  I know you can!”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try the same trick twice,” the Devil tuts.  “I’d really expected you wouldn’t be so _boring_.”

I pour our combined magic into the enchanted metal and focus on Julian’s encouraging shouts until the chain seizes violently in my hands.  Then, with a sharp crack, it shatters.  It sets off a ripple effect along the chains binding me, then Julian.  Metal splinters and crumbles to ash.

We’re free.

“Yes!” Julian shouts, leering at the Devil.  “Fuck your chains!”

I rush to Julian’s side and stand protectively in front of him, staring up at the Devil defiantly, my arms spread out at my sides to shield my beloved from our captor.

The Devil shrugs idly.  “So you broke a few chains.  So what?  Do you really think you can fight me alone?”

“We’re _not_ alone,” I say.  There’s no way I could know that, and yet… I feel it in my heart. I take a deep breath and call out, “Portia!  Mazelinka!”

The shadows swallow their names.  Only silence answers.

The Devil rolls his red eyes.  “Oh, please.  Did you really think they’d be stupid enough to stay?  No, they were smart enough to save their own skins.  They ran off a long time ago.”

“Ha!” Julian scoffs.  “As if they’d _ever_ do that!”

I nod firmly.  Julian and I both know they stayed.  They must be trying to reach us, even now.

Maybe…. Maybe I can reach them.

I reach out, blindly stretching my hands into the darkness, trusting my intuition.  For a long, breathless moment, I feel nothing, but then a tough, weathered hand catches one of my hands, and a smaller, callused hand curls around my other wrist.  I pull as hard as I can.  Portia and Mazelinka come through the shadows into the space with Julian and I.

“Got you!” Mazelinka cries out in relief.

“Ilya!  Sevrina!” Portia shouts, “You’re alright!  Let’s show this ugly fuck who’s boss!”

Julian puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes reassuringly.  Magic flows through me, building higher and higher, singing at a fever pitch, and then it bursts free, in a flash of light that dazzles me even as it burns the darkness away.

I’ve never been so happy to see the Magician’s realm in my life.  The colourful water swirls around our feet.  Above our heads, the storm is beginning to clear.

“Well now,” the Devil says, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

The Devil snaps his fingers and the storm returns full-force, rain and thunder roaring around us.  The sky splits with flashes of red lightening, silhouetting the Devil as he looms ahead of us.  A fearsome enemy, but with Julian and his family, I am not afraid.

“Oh, don’t get complacent now,” the Devil warns.  “I’ve broken kings and warlords.  I’ve shaped the course of your history.  I’ve bent your entire world to my will, and I’ve reduced five of my fellow Arcana to whispers in the dark.  What can four humans possibly do to me?”

“What about six of us?” A low, dulcet voice calls from behind us.

Nadia and Nazali step through the doorway on the beach, each with eyes narrowed, ready for a fight.  Julian lets out a shout of joy.

“I always did enjoy a good dramatic entrance!” Nazali says, winking at him.

“Countess!  Nazali!” Julian says in delight, “Now this is a fight, alright!”

All of us turn toward the Devil.

“That’s six of us, now!” Julian shouts triumphantly.

“ _Eight_!”

Another woman’s voice calls out from behind us with a ferociousness that catches me off guard.  Asra is standing at the door with a woman with cropped, ash-blond hair, wild blue eyes, and wearing Asra’s clothes.  Her eyes are fixed mercilessly on the Devil as they step out of the doorway.

“ _Don’t fucking touch my sister!_ ” She snarls.

Morgana.  It’s Morgana.  I look to Julian for verification and he smiles.  It’s her.

“Oh, another magician dragged up from the dregs, I see?”  The Devil scoffs, “At least you’re trying to entertain me, now—my goodness.  And Countess Satrinava!  I’d have thought you’d do better than to throw your lot in with these amateurs—Wouldn’t you prefer to be on the winning side?”

Nadia’s gaze is blistering.  “Don’t insult me.”

The Devil laughs easily and unrestrained.  More chains slink around his feet like serpents, ready to strike.

“Just try it.” I growl.

The chains lash out at us.  I react in an instant, my magic flaring brightly between us.  Even without touching the others, I can feel them behind me, pillars of light and power that answer my call.  The chains shudder as my magic seizes them, but instead of breaking, they twist in mid-air, and shoot backwards the Devil.  He makes a quick motion with one black-clawed hand, and the chains drop harmlessly into the surf.

He looks taken aback.

I wasn’t expecting that any more than he was.  I stare at my hands, bemused.

Is it because there were eight of us?

Behind me, Julian steps up, resting his hand on my shoulder.  Morgana steps up to my other side.  Asra, Portia, Mazelinka, Nadia and Nazali all fan out.  We stand shoulder-to-shoulder, staring the Devil down.

“Sevrina,” Julian breathes, “You’re… you’re _glowing_.”

There’s so much magic flowing through me that it eddies and swirls just under my skin.  With every second that passes, it glows brighter, a manifestation of all of our powers combined.

“A light show,” the Devil laughs, “Is that your idea of intimidation?”

I can feel the Devil’s power gathering, too.  An oppressive heat, and crushing pressure... 

The standoff is abruptly broken by a wave of magic.  It’s so powerful that I stumble as it passes over me.  I can’t take my eyes off the Devil to look, but I’m sure it came from behind me, from the marble door on the sand.  It must have been just an echo of whatever’s happening at the palace.

What’s going on?

The Devil’s smile is slow, and viciously satisfied.

“It seems like I won’t have time to crush you after all,” he says with a low, malignant laugh.  “Everything is ready, and ahead of schedule, at that.”

“What?” Julian says.  “What’s ready?”

“Why, my ritual to merge the realms,” the Devil explains, spreading his hands, “I need only put the finishing touches on it.”

“That can’t be,” Asra asserts.  “You need us to finish the ritual.”

“Your presence here inconveniences me, true,” the Devil admits with a nod, “But you haven’t stopped me.  Though, you are becoming more trouble than you’re worth.  So I’ll only say this once.  Stop wasting my time.  Turn around, go through that door, and do as you’re told.  Otherwise, well… Who knows what might happen?  The decision is yours.”

With that, the Devil fades away into thin air, and the storm finally subsides.

Julian seizes me in his arms.

“Is he gone?” He whispers.

I can’t feel that stifling aura anywhere.  I nod slowly, still reeling.

“Yes, he’s gone.”

He squeezes me tightly.  “Oh my Darling…. You were magnificent….  I’m so proud.”

I cling to him a moment, my eyes closed, treasuring his tiny kisses at my temple in this moment of peace, and then he laughs softly and gets me to open my eyes.

“Sevrina,” he whispers.  “Sevrina, your sister…”

I raise my head from his shoulder and turn around, and there she is, standing with Asra’s arm around her waist and swept up in swirls of iridescent chiffon from his masquerade gown.  Her ash blond hair is a stark contrast to my raven hair, but our faces are alike, a certain inexplicable similarity around the eyes and lips.  She’s just slightly taller than me, with narrower hips and a somewhat more boyish frame, but to put the two of us side by side, it would be very easy to guess we’re sisters.

“Rina,” she whispers, then turns to Asra and asks, “I’m not hurting her?”

“No, Pearl,” Asra says, kissing her cheek, “Come on, step nearer.  You won’t hurt her.”

“Rina?” She says again, a little more sure.  “Do you remember me?”

I can feel my chin quiver.  “I want to,” I say, opening my arms.  “I want to.  I’m trying.”

Morgana steps up to me with a wobbly smile and puts her hands on either side of my face.

“That’s alright,” she says with a soft, nervous laugh as tears break over her cheeks.  “That’s alright, I’m just glad to be able to be near you again.”

Tears run down my cheeks now, too.

“So am I,” I say.

Morgana embraces me tightly.  I cling to her.  I can feel her ribs shaking with a mixture of laughter and tears.

“Rina, I missed you so much,” she says, pulling back to wipe away her tears.  “I missed you so much…. I promise we’ll make it all make sense when we get back home.  I promise…. Holy suffering fuck, Ilya—your eye!”

She instinctively steps backward to Asra as the sight of Julian’s red sclera.

“I’m not contagious,” he assures her.  “It’s from years ago.  It never cleared after the plague was cured.”

Morgana nods, satisfied with the explanation. 

“I usually wear an eyepatch,” he adds for good measure.

Morgana stifles a laugh.  “You just have to keep up that pirate image, don’t you? Oh, I’ve missed you, too.”

Morgana steps back to us and hugs us both together.

“It’s good to see you again, Morgana,” Julian laughs. 

The rest of our friends have come closer to us and Morgana breaks our huddle.  Asra prods Julian to fix his shirt and Julian fastens the buttons and smiles at me.

“Look at all of our friends who have come to help, Sevrina,” he says, beaming at the group.  “I can hardly believe it… I never would have been able to ask for help before… I probably would have made a deal with the Devil just to keep you safe….”

I take hold of his arms and look into his eyes.  I can’t stand the thought.

“No,” I say sternly.  “Don’t _ever_ say that.  It’s you and me.  Together.  Always.  _Promise me_.”

My eyes well up. 

“Sevrina,” he whispers, “Oh Kitten, I’m sorry… No I’ll never do that.  I’ll never leave your side…”

“Swear to me,” I say, my voice breaking.  “Swear I’ll never live a day without you again.  Swear you will go where I go.  Swear you’ll never dive into self-sacrifice… Swear you’d never make a deal like that…”

His eyes are wide as he takes in the depth of my emotions.

“I swear it, Darling.  I will never leave you.”

I fling my arms around him and hold tight to his chest.  Julian kisses my hair.

“I’m sorry, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “I only meant to convey the way you’ve helped me change.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Nadia says, laying a hand on my shoulder.  “She knows.  She’s only been under a lot of strain… Isn’t that right, my friend?”

I look up to Nadia and smile as I wipe my eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” I say softly.  “I thought you’d be keeping the guests calm…”

She smiles sweetly.  “I was with Nazali when Asra came looking for them.  And after he told me what was at stake…  I could not turn my back on all of you.  My sisters have agreed to keep an eye on the party.  I felt I would be of most help here.

I look around me.  Nadia.  Portia.  Nazali.  Mazelinka.  Asra.  Morgana.  Julian…  My spirits are buoyed by their smiles, their warmth…

Their hope.

I know we have a chance, but we have to plan.

“Asra, what was the ritual he was talking about?” I ask.

Asra sighs and spreads his hands.

“It’s the same ritual he tried to pull off three years ago.  He needs twenty-two guests, each representing one of the Arcana.  This includes all of us, except for Mazelinka and Morgana.”

“When did you figure all of this out?”  Julian asks.

Asra laughs and raises an eyebrow comically.

“What, did you think I went all this time sitting around and eating tiny sandwiches?”

Morgana laughs.  “You would have on an ideal day, though.”

The group shares a collective chuckle and then Asra continues.

“I did some poking around in the palace trying to find the goat ghost, and I found a secret dining room in Lucio’s wing.  I felt like something was very wrong and I consulted the cards.”

“Wait,” Portia pipes in, “What about the other guests?  Won’t they be in danger?”

“Yes,” Nadia agrees, “But we cannot risk returning now.  I doubt he expects us to simply obey his orders… He must have other plans to force us to participate.”

“Blaggards like him always cheat,” Mazelinka sneers, “Which means there’s only one thing to do.”

I nod firmly.

“We need to take the fight to the Devil.”

“What?” Julian says, “Er… Wait—That’s a bad idea, isn’t it?  Tell me I’m not the only one that thinks that’s a bad idea?”

“It’s definitely a bad idea,” I say, “But we don’t have any other options.”

“She’s right,” Morgana says.  “If we wait, there’s no telling what might happen.  We have to stop him before he can do any more damage.”

Asra nods his head soberly. “I agree… Even an incomplete ritual could be dangerous.  This might be our best chance to stop him for good.”

“And how, exactly, will we do that?”  Nadia asks.  “Your magic is powerful indeed, Sevrina, but… What will you do with it?”

“Well,” Julian asks, an unsure wavering in his voice, “Can he die?  Is he killable?”

Asra heaves a worried sigh and passes a hand over his head.

“I’m not sure… I doubt it.  The Arcana are… Concepts.  Ideas.”

“And you can’t kill an idea,” Morgana says.

“There must be another way to stop him,” Nazali says softly.

“I… I think I have an idea,” I say sheepishly.  “When the Devil attacked us, I was able to redirect his chains.”

“Yes,” Portia says, nodding, “I saw that—he seemed unsettled, didn’t he?”

“And he turned tail and ran right after,” Mazelinka adds.

Nadia’s eyes go wide.  “Are you proposing trying to bind the Devil with his own chains?”

I nod.  “I think it could work.”

There’s no way to tell for sure, but I’ve never seen the Devil look unnerved until that moment.

“If you can bind him to his realm,” Asra says, nodding thoughtfully, “Then he won’t be a threat anymore.”

“It’s a good plan,” Morgana says encouragingly.

“Turning his own powers against him would be a fitting end,” Nadia says with a hopeful smile.

“Where did he go to?” Portia asks.

“I think he went back to his realm,” Asra says.  “It’s where he’s the strongest… But I’ve never tried to go there.  I don’t know the way.”

Suddenly we hear a bark of a dog.  Scout comes bounding over a dune and skids to a halt in front of us, tail wagging.

“Scout!” Morgana shouts happily.

“And what a wonderfully delivered dramatic entrance!” Julian laughs.

Scout bows comically to us in acknowledgement of Julian’s comment, and puts a hand on Morgana’s shoulder.  They seem to be familiar.  Friendly.

“Good to see you again,” I say.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to find the Devil, would you?” Julian asks.

Scout bobs her head and barks in affirmation, then trots off a few steps, looking at us expectantly and beckoning us to follow her.

“Is this a friend of yours?”  Nadia asks.

“She’s a guide to the lost,” Morgana says happily.  “And a good companion to the traveller.”

“She’s helped us to navigate the realms since we got here,” I affirm, “We can trust her.”

“Even when she takes us through danger, it’s been for good reason,” Julian adds.  “We can certainly trust her.”

Nazali claps their hands and smiles wide.

“I’m ready for adventure,” they say, “I’m in!”

“If you trust her, we do, too,” Mazelinka says. 

Scout leads us down the beach, towards a group of indistinct blobs.  As we get closer, I realize they are the star-speckled seals we watched in the Star’s realm, sprawled on the sand, relaxing.

“Oh!” Portia says in astonishment.  “Are those seals?”

Scout shoots her a look as if to say not to be so much like her brother, keep focused on the task at hand.  She points further up the beach to a dark and overgrown forest.  I can feel its gloomy, forbidding atmosphere even from here.

“Don’t be afraid,” I whisper to Julian.  He smiles reassuringly at me.

“I won’t piss off the guide this time,” he whispers.  “I swear.”

“Just a moment,” Asra calls to the group.  “I think I’ll need something a little more practical for this.”

Asra’s clothes ripple, his Masquerade gown becoming his everyday clothes.  He runs his fingers through his hair, and then smiles, relieved.

“Much better,” he says with a smile.  Morgana kisses his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” she whispers to him.  He winks at her.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Nadia says, and with a snap of her fingers, she transforms her feathered dress into an elegant pink jacket and breeches.  

“Wait, what?”  Julian says, wide-eyed in astonishment.  “How?  How are you two doing that?”

“The rules of our realm don’t always apply here,” Asra says.  “If you can imagine it, it can become real.  Nadia learned this from the High Priestess a long time ago, and her missing memories have begun to return.”

I don’t have time to ask about Nadia and the High Priestess, because Julian is very excited about this trick.

“That must be a real hit at parties!” He laughs excitedly, “Fuck me, I’ll have to give that a try!”

Scout barks and shakes a finger at Julian, then points insistently into the woods.

“Later!” Julian clarifies, “I’ll give it a try later.”

Satisfied, Scout trots into the woods.  I steel my nerves and we all follow her in.

In the wood is misty.  The trees are twisted, their crowns dense with foliage, and their gnarled roots are treacherous underfoot.  We must be careful to mind where we step.  Long, trailing streamers of vegetation drift from the branches, forming tangled curtains of greenery. 

A vine catches on my shoulder.  I go to brush it off, but it’s strangely, unsettlingly sticky.  When I pull, the creeper curls around my hand.  No matter how I yank, I can’t get free.  Julian grabs hold of my forearm and helps pull, but it’s no use.  The tendril only winds tighter, snaking around my wrist.

Scout barks and scampers over, whacking the vine with her walking stick.  As she does, something high in the canopy moves.  The vines around me aren’t vines at all, but limbs.  They ripple as some kind of creature sways on a branch.  The strangely boneless tendrils are covered in fine hairs, each beaded with sticky sap, and they’re all reaching for me.

Growling, Scout has pried most of the tendril off of me.  With Julian’s help, I pull hard and the last of it finally peels away from my shoulder.  All around us, the trees come alive with rippling tendrils, as dozens of creatures in the canopy begin to stir.  Scout yips sharply, getting the entire group’s attention, and motions for us all to follow her lead and move very, very slowly.  Despite every fibre of my body screaming at me to run, I force myself to match her pace.  Julian keeps his hand in mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles in constant reassurance.

Around us, the tendrils undulate slowly, waving this way and that in search of prey, but at our cautious pace, they don’t seem able to see us, and we are all careful to avoid touching them.  Slowly, their numbers thin until they’re gone entirely.

Even so, Scout seems tense, sniffing the air and growing quietly.

An uneasy feeling prickles at the back of my neck.  I glance over my shoulder, and see nothing.

“You feel it, too, don’t you?” Nadia asks in alarm.

“Yes,” Nazali adds, “This is too easy…”

Portia turns to Nazali with a look of confusion.

“You call those plant things too easy?”

“For a place like this,” Julian says softly, “Absolutely…”

Just as he says it, a deep rumble passes through the forest.  Ahead of us, something bursts up through the ground, flinging clumps of soil into the air.  It looks almost like a lobster, if a lobster could be perfectly transparent and the size of a small pony.  Four ruby-red eyes roll this way and that in its skull, and fix abruptly on us.  It raises pincers the size of dinner platters.  The ground heaves as more of the creatures emerge, chittering to each other.  Scout howls and runs further into the woods.

“Stick together!” Julian shouts to the group.  “Sevrina!  Hang on!”

He grabs my hand and bolts into the direction Scout was pointing in.  What little light there was fades entirely.  We stumble through the dark together, bumping into trees as we go.  I try to call a sphere of light, but it fizzes and goes out with a pop.  There’s two brief flashes from my right, but they also fizzle out as quickly as they began.

“Light spells aren’t working,” Morgana declares.

“Wait, look,” Julian says with a breath of relief.  “Up ahead!”

It takes me a moment to see it.  The faintest glimmer of light.  Behind us, the storm of clicking and chittering slowly fades, just as the source of the light becomes clearer.

A lamp post.

The dim, red glow illuminates a hazy circle.  Nazali is the first to reach it.  They turn, cupping their hands over their mouth, and call back to us.

“I think we’re clear!” They say.  “Everyone gather up—let’s do a quick headcount!”

Julian and I step into the light, with Portia and Nadia right behind us.  Asra and Morgana follow next, rounded up by Mazelinka.

The only one missing is Scout.

I call for her, but hear no response.

“Scout!” Julian calls.  Then Morgana does the same.

Nothing.

“Sevrina, you said Scout’s always led you true through the realms, didn’t you?” Asra asks, concern in his eyes.

I nod, still straining to see through the darkness as I scan for a glimpse of her cloak or white fur. 

“Then we must wait,” Nadia says softly, “And trust that she will catch up to us.”

Portia looks unnerved and yet exhilarated.  Mazelinka takes a moment to catch her breath as Julian pats her shoulder and takes his first good look around.

“Wait,” he says under his breath. “Why are we here?  This lantern is from the Hanged Man’s realm.”

He lays a hand on the lamp post when suddenly, with a hideous scream, the island rears up beneath our feet, sending us tumbling away.  It’s not an island at all, but the top of a giant head.  A vast, toothy maw yawns wide.  I react without thinking.  Fire leaps from my fingers and I hurl it straight down the monster’s throat.  It howls and thrashes, pitching from side to side.  Nazali yanks me out of the way as teeth snap alarmingly close to my head.  The glowing bulb attached to its head bobs, illuminating bits and pieces of its misshapen, piscine body.

And then we hear a calling bark, calling us to safety. 

A door opens in the distance.  Scout’s calls are coming from just beyond.

“Everybody run for it!” Julian shouts.  We don’t have to be told twice.  We make a mad dash for Scout and safety, and tumble through the door.  I catch a glimpse of two beady, dark eyes just before the portal snaps shut with a bang.

When I regain my senses, I find myself in a field.  Overhead, the stars twinkle gently.  It’s quiet, safe… Not a monster in sight.

“Is everyone here?” I call desperately, panting for breath.

Julian takes my arm.  “Yes Kitten, we all made it.  It’s alright.”

Scout plops down in an exhausted huff and slowly, the rest of us follow suit. For a long moment, we all catch our breath and nobody speaks, until Portia breaks the silence.

“Ilya,” she says softly, “Are you alright?”

Julian is looking at all of us, our motley little group sitting in a loose circle in the wheat.  He seems pensive.

“It’s just… Running through the forest, I realized something,” he says softly.  “All the people who matter to me most are right here… Any or all of us could be hurt, or worse…”

Oh no… I’ve heard this kind of talk from him before, though not for a while…  Portia rolls her eyes in anticipation of the coming soliloquy of guilt and self-loathing.  She looks like she’s ready to lecture him.

“But even knowing the danger,” Julian continues, “You all came in spite of it…. You came to support us.  You came because you wanted to help… It’s all difficult for me to believe… I’m just so grateful that Sevrina and I aren’t in this mess alone… and I… Why are you all staring at me?”

“You’re different, Ilya,” Mazelinka says, smiling.

“I am?” He asks, his cheeks beginning to prickle pink.

“Definitely.  I see I was right about you and Sevrina.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Mazelinka smiles.  “I knew that once he had his memories of you back, his despair would shift and he’d stop trying to martyr himself.  You’re good for him.  You show him his worth.”

“I agree,” Portia pipes in.  “You make each other so happy… Even though Ilya’s a handful, and I don’t think that will ever change.”

 “And your confidence Ilya,” Mazelinka continues, “It was such an act under that bravado.  You even apologized to me for smuggling you out of Vesuvia!  Although I haven’t heard you do that for a while.  You’ve grown.  You’ve changed for the better.”

Julian opens his mouth to speak but pauses, thinking about what they’re telling him.  A slow smile blooms on his face.

 “I have, haven’t I?”

“What you said just now, about being glad we’re all here with you?” Mazelinka continues, “You would never have said that before.”

“You would have run off on your own and told jus all not to come after you,” Portia says with a nod.  “But we’re all here.  All of us.  And you’re not pushing us away.”

“You trust us,” Mazelinka says.  “You trust us, and we trust you.”

Julian is blushing to the tips of his ears, but he’s grinning all the same.

“It’s not just you, Ilya,” Asra says.  “Sevrina, you’ve changed as well.”

I huff out a heaving laugh.

“I suppose that was inevitable,” I say.  “After all of this, it would have been strange for me to stay the same.”

“True,” Asra says with a warm smile.  “And you’ve changed for the better.  You’ve chosen a path and you’re determined to see it through.  You used to do your best to be invisible to the world.  You never went out, you never tried to make friends even though you were lonely.  And I know your heart was realizing Ilya and Morgana were missing all this time, but you were so inert… And now you’re finding it easier to speak your mind, to fight, to _live_.  Everything you’ve been through the last few weeks would have shattered someone with weaker character.  You’re braver and stronger than even I realized you were.”

“Sevrina,” Julian says.  “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be six drinks deep at the Rowdy Raven… I’ve never been good at looking after myself…. I didn’t used to believe I was worth it, but you saw the worth in me, even when I didn’t believe you.”

I smile fondly at him and take his hand.

“Now if only I could get you to sleep a night through…”

Nazali bursts into hysterical laughter.

“Sevrina, if you manage that, you’ll have worked more miracles than a Saint!” they say.  “He’s always been bad about sleep, even when he apprenticed with me.  Do you remember when we met, Ilya?”

“I found you just outside of Tirivata, didn’t I?”

“And launched yourself right into the middle of my triage station!” They laugh.  “Do you remember that?”

Julian looks embarrassed. 

“I was inexperienced,” he says. “I didn’t know what I was doing…”

“Let’s just say that Ilya got himself into more than one mess, back in the day,” Nazali says, “And now… well, he might still get into those messes…”

“Oh I’m sure he will,” Nadia chortles, “After all, Sevrina gets into just as much trouble.”

“Of course she does!” Mazelinka laughs, shooting me a wink, “The only thing that can keep up with a troublemaker is another troublemaker.”

“But the trouble isn’t always bad,” Morgana laughs. “You level each other out.  Sevrina settles Ilya, and Ilya brings Sevrina out of her shell.  The balance you give each other helps you both to be the best versions of yourselves.”

“And it is even more pronounced now than it was in the time of the plague,” Asra adds.  “The two of you are as perfect for each other as you always were… Being pressed to such limits like this has only made you stronger… Ilya helps Sevrina to speak her mind, to stand up for herself, to have confidence and to relax and have fun.  Sevrina helps Ilya to see his worth, to know what it means to be loved, to balance his head versus heart, and think before acting…”

“Yes, and I do hope you heed her often, Doctor,” Nadia says with a cheeky smile.  “I’ll be quite satisfied if I never have to see you in court again.”

This makes the entire group laugh together, but Nadia pauses, rubbing her temples.

“I… I have something to confess,” she says.  “Three years ago, I fell into an enchanted slumber and when I woke up, I couldn’t remember anything after I arrived in Vesuvia… When I awakened, I slowly discovered the damage that Lucio and the courtiers had done to this city...  I had no idea about the Flooded District.  No idea about the shocking poverty in the South End and the south of Gold Grave… I was kept truly in the dark about the damage that befell the city under Lucio’s rule…  The ritual was last attempted just before I fell asleep… I doubt this was a coincidence.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Asra confirms

“Despite that,” Nadia continues, “I have begun to remember some things in the past weeks…. I remember that I married to expand Prakran influence in the south.  I remember so much suffering in the time of the plague… But it isn’t all unhappiness—For instance, I have remembered what I learned from the High Priestess before coming to Vesuvia, and further, I seem to recall that we were once good friends, Asra, Morgana, and you, Doctor.  I remember how much help you all were to me in those darkest hours of the plague… And though I regret bitterly that I cannot recall, my heart tells me that you were there, also, Sevrina.”

Julian smiles.  “She was.  I remember it all.”

“So do we,” Morgana says.  “Do you remember when we celebrated your birthday on the veranda, Nadi?”

“And Ilya gave you that Nevivonian thing that looked like a teapot?” Asra laughs.

The sounds of our laughter echoes through the fields.  Across the circle.  Scout is smiling, too, tail thumping steadily on the ground.  After a moment, she starts to get up, then collapses back down to a seated position again, huffing tiredly.  She must be too exhausted to continue.  Instead, she points at the top of the hill and barks once.

I walk over to her and crouch down, reaching my hand out to hers, squeezing her paw gently.

“Thank you, Scout,” I whisper. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

She nods her head and squeezes back, her tail still thumping the ground.  At once, Julian is behind me, bending low beside me.

“Thank you, Scout,” he mutters, patting her arm.  Scout takes his hand and barks a few times as she points toward the hill again, as if to tell him to face it with courage.  Julian smiles and nods.

“I’m not afraid,” he says with a nod, perhaps trying to convince himself of it a little.  “I will face it.  Thank you for having patience with me.  Thank you for everything.”

Scout looks pleased.  With a nod, Scout lies back to rest.  The rest of us say goodbye and then we continue on without her in the direction she’d indicated, quietly trudging through the field and up the hill.

When we reach the top, I look down into a valley, and my breath catches.  Around us, the wheat is alive, lush with life.  But down the hill, a wide circle is scorched barren.  Nothing lives in it, not even a weed.  At the centre of the circle is a towering gate.  Cruel iron chains crisscross its surface, binding it shut.

And standing between us and the gate is Lucio.  He looks as if he’s expecting us.

Asra is ahead of me and I see his eyes narrow as he steps protectively in front of Morgana.

“I should have known _you’d_ get in our way,” he growls.

“Now don’t be like that, Asra!” Lucio says with a laugh, opening his arms, “Aren’t you happy to see your old friend again, alive and well in a healthy body?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Asra says vehemently.  “That body isn’t yours.”

“What are you doing here?” Nadia suddenly demands.

“What are _you_ doing here, Noddy?” Lucio bites back.  “We could be enjoying the party right now, drinking and dancing in a palace full of food and vice, throwing all our troubles away!”

“Lucio, don’t be absurd,” she says fiercely, her mahogany eyes flashing with rage.  “You will never be welcomed back to Vesuvia with open arms.”

Lucio screams in fury and then his eye falls on me.

“You!” he shouts.  “This is your fault—It’s all fallen apart because of you, little witch.  If you’d just s _tayed dead_ this would all have gone smoothly!  So you won’t be going any further!”

Lucio lunges at me, closing the distance between us in an instant.  I scramble backwards into Julian’s protective embrace, just in time to avoid the swipe of his golden claws.

“Get back here!” He snarls.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mazelinka shouts, shoving him backwards with a force that surprises me.  Lucio manages to keep his footing, and then turns on her in defence.  I never thought a wooden spoon could parry a clawed gauntlet, but Mazelinka wields it fiercely and holds her ground.

“Don’t hurt him!” Asra warns, “That’s Sevrina’s body!”

Asra turns to the rest of us, speaking quickly and keeping his voice low.

“We’ll need to trap him…. Sevrina, you remember how to cast a net spell, right?”

“Won’t Lucio tear through it?” I ask.

“Not if the three of us weave it together,” Morgana says, “It will be strong enough to hold—Good idea, Sweetheart.”

“We just need a minute to prepare it,” Asra says, looking at the rest of our friends.

“A minute, two minutes, whatever you need,” Julian says, nodding, “We’ve got you covered.  Don’t worry, Sevrina.”

I look up and see Mazelinka stagger back with a grunt, looking intensely annoyed.

“What’s the matter, Grandma?” Lucio mocks, “Can’t keep up?”

“Ilya,” Nazali calls, “We’re up!”

“En garde!”

Julian puts his fists up like a boxer, feinting and throwing out jabs. 

“Be careful!” I shout to him.  I keep an eye on the fight, even as Asra, Morgana and I weave the net, spinning our magic into gossamer threads.

“Leave the fighting to the real warriors, Jules!” Lucio growls. 

My warning shout dies in my throat as Nazali lunges in.  They grab Lucio’s wrist, put a hand on his elbow, and in one graceful move, throw him to the ground.  But Lucio leaps to his feet, his golden arm lashing out and striking Julian across the face, slicing his cheek.

“Julian!” I scream.  I turn to rush to his aid, but Asra’s urgent voice cuts through my worry.

“Sevrina, don’t!” he says.  “You have to trust him.  Trust _them_.”

Lucio advances on me, Morgana and Asra, his grin a bloodthirsty slash.

“Where were we?” Lucio mutters lowly.

Nadia steps between us and draws an elegant sword from mid-air—Something she must have learned from her time with the High Priestess.  She levels it at Lucio with a withering glare.

“Not you, too, Noddy!” Lucio shouts in surprise.  “Come on now, we’ll be so happy together when this little witch is out of the way!  You can get rid of that fat little ginger thing and we can carry on as if none of this ever happened.”

Nadia’s eyes narrow.

“Portia, my Heart—With me!” she commands.

“At your side, _Krasotka_!”

Each swipe of Lucio’s claws is countered by a slash of Nadia’s sword.  With a yell, Portia rushes him from the side.

“Almost done…” Asra says to assure me.

I force myself to focus on the net.  If I falter now, the entire spell will unravel.  Together, Asra, Morgana and I infuse the net with magic.  It begins to glow, as if we’ve trapped sunlight in its weave.  Portia yelps in surprise and pain, but I swallow my fear and keep my attention on the net.

“Done!” Asra says, “Now we just need an opening…”

I look back up, just in time to see Mazelinka catch Lucio across the ear with her spoon.

“That’s for Nevivon!” She hollers.

Lucio whirls on Mazelinka, snarling, and the tip of Nadia’s sword catches him across the cheek.

“This is for Vesuvia!”

Portia, nose bloodied, rams her shoulder into Lucio’s stomach, sending him sprawling.

“That’s for my brother!”

“Now!” Morgana shouts.

We hurl the magical net over Lucio.  With an outraged screech, he claws at the strands.  His alchemical arm hisses and steams but the magically reinforced net holds firm.  He can’t get free.

“And that was for my parents,” Asra whispers, and then kicks Lucio hard in the shin.  “And that was for Muriel.”

“You can’t do that!” Lucio shrieks, “That’s cheating! Let me out!  Now!”

I rush to Julian’s side and offer him a hand up.  His cheek and lip are bleeding but the cut isn’t deep.

“Stay still, Love,” I whisper, placing my hand over the wound.  He winces and I focus my magic.  After a moment, the cut is healed as if it were never there.

“Thank you, Kitten,” he whispers, clasping me to his chest.  As I take a moment to still my breath in his arms, I see Morgana tending to Portia’s bloodied nose in much the same way.  Nadia is standing over Lucio with her sword poised until we settle.  We gather round in a circle and look down over the Count.

“Whatever shall we do with you?” Nadia mutters.

From his awkward position, the net tangled around his limbs, Lucio cranes his neck so he can see us.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lucio says as he nervously eyes Nadia’s blade, “Listen…. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.  If you let me go… I… I’ll help you to kill the Devil…. That’s what you’re trying to do, right?”

I shake my head.  Even if he was trustworthy, he’s not close enough to any of us to lend me his strength.

“No.” I say firmly.  “Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean, no?” Lucio screams indignantly, “Trust me, you _need_ my help!”

Nazali scoffs.  “Oh, please.  You’d say anything to save your skin!”

“And I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you,” Portia adds.

“Why won’t any of you listen to me?” Lucio says, his red eyes narrowing with frustration.  “What did I ever do to any of you?”

“You’ve done plenty to us,” Morgana says, putting her arm around Asra’s waist.  He is shaking with rage.

Panicking, Lucio makes an abortive gesture at Nazali. 

“I’ve never done anything to _you_!” he calls.

“Not to me, personally,” they agree, “But you left a sea of bodies in your wake.  We’re _not_ going to be friends—Let that be understood right now.”

“But I’ve never….” Lucio’s eyes dart around our faces before steadying on Julian.  “I’ve never done wrong by you, Jules!”

Julian’s countenance is calm, but there’s fury in his eyes.

“Can you possibly think that?” He asks softly.

Lucio nods quickly.  “We were friends, then, Jules!” He says.  “Good friends!  You and Asra loved entertaining me!”

Asra lets out a sharp laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement, and quickly quiets himself.

“You think you’ve never wronged me?”  Julian says, shaking his head in disbelief.  “What about the time you _gave me the fucking plague_?”

There are gasps and exclamations of shock all around, not least from me.  Julian hasn’t told me about this.

“He did _what_?” I cry.

I look down at Lucio, stunned.  A slow, creeping fury twists its way up my spine.

“You weren’t working fast enough!” Lucio exclaims.  “You said you were going to cure me, and you weren’t holding up your end!  I knew you were close, but you needed some motivation!  You were so absorbed with your silly personal problems that I had to light a fire under your ass!  You needed incentive!”

“ _Incentive_?”  Julian roars, “ _You force-fed me a goddamned plague beetle_!”

“So what?” Lucio deflects, “You survived!  It worked!”

“That doesn’t make it right!” I shout.

Lucio blinks at me, then bursts into laughter.

“Right?  Who cares about that!” He exclaims, “It worked, didn’t it?”

“And Valdemar’s experiments?” I cry, “The cages?  The dungeon?  The atrocities?”

“They were _Valdemar’s._ ”  Lucio deflects.  “All I did was tell them to find a cure.  If you have issue with their methods, take it up with them!”

I take a step forward, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.  Julian puts his hand on my shoulder.

“ _You_ gave Julian the plague,” I heave.  “ _You_ gave Valdemar free reign.  _You_ chose to put your survival above everything else.  You’re a coward, running from the consequences of your decisions!”

Lucio twists in the net until he’s looking up at the eight of us.  We are all looking at him with varying degrees of disgust and anger.  It’s finally sinking in to him that we won’t be making friends.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” he says, trying to backpedal feebly.

“That’s a fucking understatement if I’ve ever heard one,” Morgana says under her breath.

“But I’m a generous fellow,” Lucio continues, “I’m willing to forgive and forget if you are…”

Julian crosses his arms and looks down his nose at the tangled-up Count.

“Are you, now.”

“Of course,” Lucio feigns, “I’m sorry that you’re so upset over all of this plague shit…. But you really ought to be over it by now, Jules…”

“The _silly_ _personal problems_ you mentioned me being so selfishly absorbed in,” Julian says with a calm that is unnerving, “I was grieving Sevrina.  She fell victim to the plague and it took her life. The plague that _you_ brought to Vesuvia.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“And not just me,” I say.  “Thousands of people are dead because of you... Did you ever think of them?  Did we _ever_ cross your mind?  Or were you only out to save your own skin?

 “It’s been three years, Jules!” Lucio says, “And even though it’s fucked up my plans, she’s back now!  Now we can _all_ get what we wanted.  No love lost, right?  Ha!  Come now… We should let bygones be bygones—You can’t just keep on complaining about the past and blaming me for all of your problems… Like I said, we used to be good friends…. Didn’t we?  So what do you say, Jules?  Sevrina?”

“That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard,” Julian says coolly.

“Me too,” Morgana and I say in unison.  The rest of our group are shaking their heads in disgust.

“What more do you want from me?” Lucio shouts.  “What’s wrong with all of you?”

“Gods, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” Julian mutters, “So, let’s not.”

“Julian?”

“It’s alright, Sevrina,” he says softly.  “I’m not interested in holding grudges, even over this.  This son-of-a-bitch isn’t worth it… If he can’t look beyond himself, that’s his loss.  I have you, now.  We all have each other, and that’s something he will never understand.”

He takes my hands, gently squeezing my fingers, and gives me a hopeful smile.

“Now, as far as what to do with him,” Julian continues, turning his attention back to the Count, “Lucio, you made a deal with the Devil, didn’t you?”

“Why?” Lucio asks, then adds hopefully, “Are you interested in one too?  I could—”

“Absolutely not!” Julian shouts at him, then turns back to me.  “Sevrina, do you think you could use that power of yours to break those deals?”

Lucio visibly stiffens.  “What did you say?”

“Not bad, Ilya,” Asra says, nodding his fluffy head.  “It’ll break the Devil’s connection to him.  That’s clever.”

It looks like Lucio is starting to sweat.  For the first time, he seems to realize the danger he’s in.

“I can try,” I say.

“No!” Lucio shouts as I approach him, “Stop right now!  I never agreed to this!”

I kneel on the ground beside him and tune out his howls of protest.  I close my eyes and slow my breathing.  I can almost feel the weight of the deals, the echo of the Devil’s power burning like a brand.  When I open my eyes I can see the chains, translucent, and wrapped tightly around his body.  I reach out a hand to take hold of one of the chains.

“No!” He screams, “Hands off!  How dare you!  You’ll regret this, you worthless little witch—I’ll make you pay!”

Though he squirms and curses blisteringly at me, the magical net holds.  There aren’t as many chains as there were on Valdemar, but they’re wound just as tight.

I can’t remove them by myself.

“Everyone, I need your help,” I call.

They step up behind me, laying their hands on my shoulders and back.

“Fuck him up, Rina,” Morgana whispers.  I can hear Julian chuckle.

Warmth and power flow into me, mingling with my own magic.  I breathe slowly, guiding power down into my arms and into my hands, and grab hold of the chains.  The metal shudders under my hands, and then begins to darken.  It spreads out from where I’m holding on, until the chains are all as black as coal.

“Don’t you _dare_!” Lucio screams.  I look into his red eyes, and with a ringing peal, the chains snap.

The magical backlash hits me first, knocking me back.  The net shatters in a flash of light.

“Sevrina!” I hear Mazelinka call.  She and Julian catch me as I fall, and we tumble to the ground together in a heap.

A silvery mist rushes over my vision, and when it fades, I’m sprawled on the ground over Julian’s lap.

“Sevrina!” he whispers, caressing my cheek in wonder.  I have yet to understand what’s happened.

Nazali offers me a hand up and I reach out to take it.

“Up you go,” They laugh, pulling me to my feet, and I stumble.  My limbs feel leaden, as though my exhaustion has caught up with me all at once.  Asra and Morgana rush to my side.

“Sevrina,” Asra says with a smile, “You have your body back, Sister!”

I laugh out a breath of disbelief, and look down at myself.  I look, and feel… _more_ , somehow.

“You do!” Julian cheers, sweeping me up into his arms from the side and spinning, “Finally!”

He sets me down and kisses me.  Elation sweeps over me.  Suddenly giddy, I wrap my arms around his neck, laughing into the kiss.  Our friends cheer and clap, and Portia whistles teasingly but I don’t mind.  After all this time, I finally have my body back.  Isn’t that worth a little celebration?

“You have your body back,” Julian whispers delightedly, “Now we just need to get mine back and you’ll be in real trouble…!”

A groan suddenly breaks up the impromptu celebration and all eyes turn back to the source.  From his crumpled position on the ground, Lucio struggles to sit up.  He freezes, staring at me, then frantically feels his own face and pats his torso.

“What… What did you do to me!” he cries.  I have to lean on Julian to stay upright, but I’m probably in better shape than Lucio right now.

“I undid your deal with the Devil,” I say, “Which gave me back my body… and gave you back yours, it seems.”

“Yes,” Asra says, “His original body, from before the fire.  The one he went to all that effort to replace.  All that scheming, and he’s right back to where he started.”

Lucio gapes at us in horror.

“You…. You filthy little _thief_!” He shrieks in fury.  “You’ll pay for this!”

He staggers upright and lurches towards me, but Nadia steps in front of me.

“I’ve had enough of this,” she says sternly.  “As Countess of Vesuvia, I hereby banish you from Vesuvia and all Vesuvian territories.  And as the seventh princess of Prakra, I banish you from the entirety of the Prankran empire.  I never want to hear or see you again, and should you defy me, you will face the harshest possible consequences.  Am I clear?”

“Noddy, you can’t do that!” He shouts, “I’m the Count!”

Lucio’s spluttered protests fade into silence as Nadia raises her sword.  He looks back and forth between us.

“I have _always_ outranked you and you know it,” Nadia says through her teeth. “Now go.  Go far, far away, and never show your face here again.  If I see you again, I will not still my blade.” 

Lucio takes a few steps backward, and then flees, over the hill and out of sight.  Nadia closes her eyes, and tilts her head back.

“Finally,” she whispers to the air, “We are free of him for good.”

I embrace Nadia and she laughs softly, patting me reassuringly on the shoulders.

“Well, his lackey’s out of the way,” Julian says with a sigh, “That just leaves the Devil himself.”

The gate looms silently ahead of us.  Waves of hostility emanate from it, almost tangible in the still air.  I turn to Julian.

“Remember how you said you’d follow me through Hell?” I say softly.

He smiles, and puts his arms around me.

“Right beside you, Kitten,” he whispers.  “Right beside you every step of the way, I swear it.”

We take a moment to bolster ourselves, and one by one, our friends and family come to us, placing a hand on one of our shoulders or backs.  None of us needs to say a word.  In the silence, together, we all take a moment to find our energy, strength and courage.  With a kiss to my hair, Julian draws back, and everyone fans out.

“Alright,” I say.  “Let’s go.”

I reach a hand out towards the chains across the gate, but before I touch them, they recoil from me.  They slither away until the gate is clear.  The Iron bars are hot to the touch.  I push, and with a ponderous groan, it swings open.

“Before we go in,” Asra says, placing a hand on my shoulder, “Sevrina, you need to be careful… if anything happens to you….”

“Nothing’s going to happen to her!” Mazelinka blurts.  “Not on my watch!”

“I’m right with you, Sevrina,” Portia adds.

“We all are,” says Nadia.

“And we haven’t been reunited for it to be cut short,” Morgana says.

“That big, ugly goat won’t know what hit him,” Nazali laughs.

“What do you think, Sevrina?” Julian asks as he squeezes my hand, “Do you think the bards will write about this?”

I chuckle and take a look through the gate, to the perilous realm beyond.

“They’ll absolute write about us, Julian.”


	24. The World

The Devil is waiting somewhere beyond this gate.  His plans to merge the realms is in disarray, but he will never stop trying.  Not unless I bind him.

It won’t be easy, but at least I won’t be alone.  Julian, Portia, Mazelika, Nadia, Nazali, Asra and my sister, Morgana stand by my side. Together, we step over the threshold and into the Devil’s realm.

The realm is bathed in crimson light.  It is difficult to see the boundary between sand and sky.  Even though there is no sun, a stifling, feverish heat presses down on me like a physical weight.  Every inch of this scorched, barren landscape radiates hostility.

“Well, this, uh… This is a real friendly place, isn’t it?” Julian mutters.

“Perfect spot for a holiday,” Nazali says, elbowing him playfully.

“I don’t know,” Asra pipes in.  “I hear Prakra has better beaches.”

At the centre of the realm is a hill, crowned by towering rock arches.  Storm clouds churn above it.  It seems to beckon me, like a twisted black claw.

“There,” I say, pointing to the hill.  “He’s waiting for us there.”

“How… Ominous,” Nadia murmurs.

Suddenly, the ground convulses under our feet, and rock pillars and plateaus burst through the ground.  With a terrible groan, a chasm opens up ahead of us, filling with a viscous, dark red liquid.  I approach the edge of the river.  It boils sullenly, wisps of steam rising from its surface.  The air is hot, and so thick with the smell of copper that it coats my tongue.  Portia joins, me, eyes wide with cautious wonder, and peers over the lip of the chasm.

“Is that blood?” She asks softly.

“Yes,” I whisper, my unease winding my stomach tight.

“Pasha, get back from there!” Julian shouts in alarm.  He grabs her shoulder, pulling her away from the edge.

“Hey!” Portia shouts indignantly as she shakes off her brother’s grip.  She whirls, planting her hands on her hips.  “What was that for?”

“What did you want me to do?” Julian says defensively.  “Let you fall?”

“I wasn’t going to fall!” She shouts, rolling her eyes.  “Everything was fine!  Sevrina, back me up here?”

I reach out a comforting hand to put on her shoulder.

“All of this is frightening,” I say softly.  “Julian’s just worried about you.”

Portia shakes off my hand furiously.

“I should have known you’d take his side!” She shouts, now visibly angry.

“It’s not about sides, Pasha,” Julian says, “It’s about keeping you safe!”

“Gods, you’re always like this!” Portia cries, her chin quivering with the threat of angry tears.  “ _Oh, Pasha, don’t do this, it’s dangerous!  Pasha, don’t do that, what if you get hurt_?” 

She mimics Julian’s infection with a nasal falsetto that hurts my ears.  I can feel a headache starting.

“It’s my job to protect you!” Julian protests.

“No, it’s not!” She screams.  “Stop treating me like a fucking baby!  I’m not a child anymore—Maybe you’d realize that if you had been there for me growing up!”

“If you’re not a child,” Mazelinka chimes in, the irritation in her tone clearly detectable, “Why are you acting like one?”

“Ha!” Julian says, leering at Portia, “Yes, Pasha, why—“

“You too, Ilya!” Mazelinka says severely, “Stop it right now, both of you!”

Mazelinka waves her spoon as she scolds them.  Nazali abruptly steps in, grabbing her wrist.

“Stop that!” They shout.  “Someone’s going to lose an eye!”

Mazelinka shoves them back.  “Get your hands off me!”

“All of you, calm down!” Nadia calls, but it’s not of any use.  Julian and Portia are screaming at each other in earnest, now.

“Shut up, Ilya!” Portia exclaims.  “Shut up, you arrogant son of a bitch!”

“Pasha!” Julian roars, “Don’t talk about our mother like that!  You don’t even _remember_ her!”

After a stunned moment, Portia bursts into tears before leaping onto her brother, knocking him to the ground.

“I’m going to wring your fucking neck!”

“Everybody shut up!” Morgana shouts, but it is still no use. 

Asra sighs, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Why are they fighting, anyways?” He asks Morgana out of the side of his mouth.

I feel a flash of irritation.  It’s just like Asra to make snide comments instead of helping.  I open my mouth to say as much, and then the words die in my throat.

Why are they fighting?

Portia and Julian must have had their share of fights, but this is unusually vicious.  Something isn’t right. 

Suspicious, I cast my senses outward.

There.  A flicker of red, on the edge of my perception.  It’s coming from the realm itself—A bitter, resentful energy that fans the flames of conflict.  Now that I know what to look for, I can tell that the anger rolling over me isn’t quite natural, but I’m the only one that’s noticed.  Everyone is screaming at each other, but no one is being heard.

Talking won’t work, but maybe magic will.  If it’s in the air, then I know just the thing to clear it. 

Magic leaps to my fingertips, and with some focus a frosty breeze blows away the red haze, cooling everything down and hushing tempers.  Everyone stops where they are, their screaming abruptly going quiet.

“Is everyone done shouting?”  I ask calmly.  “Is everyone alright?”

“What was that?” Portia asks, getting to her feet.

“The Devil’s magic,” I explain, reaching down to help Julian off the ground.  “The realm is trying to make us fight each other, so I forced it back.

“That makes sense,” Morgana says.

“If we’re fighting each other, we aren’t fighting the Devil,” Asra affirms.  “We need to keep cool heads and remember we’re here together, and all of us on the same side.”

Julian clears his throat.  He looks sheepish, and more than a little chastised.  His face is flushed red.

“Devil’s magic or not,” Julian says, reaching out to Portia, “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.  Please forgive me, Pasha.”

She nods, and steps over to give him a reconciling hug.

“I’m sorry I called you those names.  I don’t mean them…. But you owe me a beer when we get home.”

Julian laughs and hugs her tightly.

“I’ll buy the first round if you buy the second,” he says.  When they part, they’re smiling at each other again.

The tension dissipates as if it was never there.  I let out a sigh of relief.

“Sevrina may have foiled the Devil’s magic,” Nadia says gravely, “But we still have a problem… How are we going to cross this river?”

“If I had everyone’s help, I may be able to raise a bridge,” I say softly.  I look over to Asra and Morgana.  “The spell would be impossible to do on my own, or even in the real world… But do you think in a magical realm it might work? My magic alone isn’t strong enough.”

“That’s why we’re all here,” Morgana says with a smile.  “To give you our strength.  It’s a good idea.”

“Everyone, gather round Sevrina,” Asra says. 

Julian takes my hand as the group of us turn to face the river.

“Pour your strength and magic into Sevrina,” Morgana says to everyone as she takes my other hand.  I feel their hands lay across my shoulders and arms, wherever they can reach.  I feel their light, the tingling of their magic, the steadiness of their strength bolstering me.  I reach out my magic and let it seep into the stone.  The realm itself resists, pushing back against me.  The Devil doesn’t want to let us pass, but little by little, the tide turns in my favour.  Steeling myself, I take a deep breath, and shove with all my might.

A stone bridge erupts from the river, blood cascading off its sides in sheets, but just as quickly, it starts to shudder, disintegrating at the edges.

“Run for it!” Julian shouts.

We break our grip on each other and sprint across the bridge.  Chunks of stone fall into the boiling river, hissing and steaming as they sink.  My lungs burning and my heart pounding, I just barely reach the other bank in time.

“Mazelinka!” Portia cries.

I whirl around just in time to see Mazelinka lose her footing as the last of the bridge crumbles beneath her footfalls.  On instinct, I lunge, grabbing her arm.  Asra drops to his knees next to me, and grabs Mazelinka’s other arm.

“Hang on!” He calls to her.

I pull as hard as I can, but I don’t have a good grip.  I can feel Mazelinka slipping away.  Then Julian grabs my shoulders and Nadia gets a good grip on the back of Asra’s shirt.

“Got you!” Julian says.

“Pull!”  Nadia calls.

With a great heave, we manage to pull Mazelinka out of danger and she falls into my lap, collapsing with me on solid ground.

“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice filled with concern.

“Bah! I’m fine,” she laughs, “I must just be getting too old for this shit.”

“Nonsense,” Nazali says with a laugh as they help Mazelinka to her feet.  “You’ll be running circles around us whippersnappers for years to come.”

Julian and Asra both bend to help me to my feet, each taking one of my hands.

“We need to keep moving,” Asra says cautiously.  “It isn’t safe to stay in one place for too long.”

Once I’m standing again, I turn to face the ominous hill again.  We’re close now, but as soon as I take a step forward, the desert seems to elongate, the hill receding rapidly into the distance.  Wizened trees suddenly burst up through the ground, showering us with sand and pebbles.  A murky, purple liquid bubbles up between their roots.  We’re suddenly facing a swamp.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Julian shouts in frustration, passing a hand over his hair.

As the words leave his lips, gravity twists violently around us, and my stomach flips.

“Grab something and hang on!” Morgana calls. 

I grab blindly for a tree trunk, closing my eyes to try and stave off the rush of vertigo.  For a long, dizzying moment, I can’t tell which direction is up.  I hear cries and grunts all around me, and then the sense of motion seems to settle.  Cautiously, I crack open an eye.

We’re… Upside down.  Or else the realm is.

Above my head are the tree roots and murky, bubbling liquid.  The swamp gurgles faintly.  Below, there is nothing but sky.

“Is anyone else afraid of heights?”  Portia murmurs, her queasiness clear on her face.

I only look down for an instant before I quickly avert my gaze, clinging harder to the tree and whimpering.  I look around me.  Julian and Portia are both on the next tree over from me.

“Oh no,” Julian breathes, “No, no, no… This is not what I wanted to be doing today.”

I stare dubiously across the swamp to the hill in the distance.  How are we supposed to get there?  And then something drips on my shoulder.  I almost don’t register it until it starts to burn, and I cry out, wiping it off hastily, wincing, and looking up.  The swamp is starting to drip down on us, caustic liquid sizzling against the trees and vines.

“We need to move, fast!” Asra shouts from a neighbouring tree as he does his best to shield Morgana from the acerbic liquid that is falling in slow, gelatinous drips.

“Alright,” Nazali says, “I’ve never tried this upside down, but let’s see if this works…”

“Be careful!” Nadia calls out.

Nazali grabs a hold of a vine, and with a loud whoop, kicks off from their tree.  They swing across to the next tree, where Mazelinka is clinging tightly.

“I’ve still got it!” Nazali declares with enthusiasm.  “Mazelinka, grab on—I’ll get you out of here.”

It’s terrifying, but it beats staying still.  Taking a breath, I grab hold of a vine.  Before I can think better of it, I jump, swinging across the gap to Julian and Portia.  For a moment, I think I won’t make it, but I manage to land safely.  Portia is struggling to reach a vine just out of her reach.  Julian opens his mouth, doubtless to make a joke about her petite stature, but suddenly Nadia leaps to the tree, landing beside Portia as sure-footed as if she were walking on a a Vesuvian street.

“Perhaps I may be of assistance, my Heart?” She says sweetly.

“Not unless you can make that jump for me, _Krasotka_.”

Nadia kisses the top of her head.

“That was the idea, Darling.  Hold tight.”

In one graceful move, Nadia scoops Portia up into her embrace, leaving Portia red in the cheeks and clinging to her for dear life.  Nadia strengthens her grip on the vine and leaps, swinging to the next tree.

I look at Julian.  Julian looks at me.

“Oh, I wish _I_ had a dashing heroine like that,” he says with a wink.  I make my way nearer to his branch and he laughs, holding out his arms to me.

“My brave Sevrina, here to save the day,” he says sweetly.

“Grab hold,” I whisper, “Hold the vine tight and wrap your legs around my hips…”

He does his best to corral is long limbs around me in such a way as to help me hold on and to let me keep control of our movement.  He presses close, indulging in a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Oh, Darling, you sweep me right off my feet,” he says with a smirk.

“You aren’t afraid?” I whisper.

“How could I be afraid of anything when you’re here?”

It’s amazing what his words do to me.  Any nerves I’m feeling are washed away by a surge of boundless confidence.

“Hang on tight,” I say.

I don’t look down, I don’t hesitate.  If I do, then fear might catch up to me.  So I strengthen my grip on the vine and push away from the tree, letting gravity and momentum carry us in a graceful arc.  Adrenaline and exhilaration rush through me, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Remember that ride from the tower at the Masquerade?” Julian says as his laughter rumbles through his chest.  He whoops aloud and then looks at me, beaming.

“When we’re home again, I’d love to re-enact what we did in the baths before that ride,” Julian teases.

“As much as I would love to entertain the thought, Love,” I murmur, “Don’t you think this conversation is better suited for solid ground?”

Julian laughs.  “Why, Sevrina, that sounds like a sensible idea, and you know I’m allergic to those.”

“Look out!” Morgana cries.  Suddenly the bottom drops out of my stomach, and I’m falling, the world spinning around me.  In the scramble, I lose my hold of Julian.  For a long moment, all is darkness as the realm warps and distorts sickeningly around us, and I’m more terrified than I’ve ever been.

When the world finally settles around me, I’m lying on my back in the sand.  All at once, Julian is beside me, drawing me up into his arms.

“Sevrina, Darling…. Oh Gods, are you alright?  Are you hurt?”

I seize him in my arms and cling to his shoulders as he helps me to my feet.  The others are all around us on the ground, picking themselves up, groaning and wincing.  My heart feels like it’s going to burst in my breast.

“Julian!” I heave, “Oh, Gods, Julian….”

“Everyone is here, everyone is alright, Kitten,” he assures me, “Are you hurt?”

“A little sore,” I breathe, calming myself by breathing in the scent of his hair.  “I’m alright, Love, are you?”

“Oh, Sevrina,” he whispers, peppering my hair with kisses.  “Oh, thank the Gods… I’m not hurt, Dearest… Don’t worry, I’m right here….”

After a moment, I’m able to still my panic, and I feel another hand on my shoulder.

“Rina,” Morgana says tremulously, “We’ve arrived…”

I lift my head from Julian’s chest.  Ahead of us is the hill, the stone arches atop it stretching forebodingly into the sky like teeth. There’s no more tricks, no more obstacles.  All that remains is the Devil himself.  Julian takes hold of my hand and squeezes gently.  I take a breath and square my shoulders, determined.  I don’t need to say anything.  I just have to believe the eight of us will be enough.

Together, we climb the hill.

At the top, the stone arches open up around us into… Not a throne room, exactly—It’s too open, too chaotic to be a room.  The horizon seems to undulate in my peripheral vision.  Whenever I blink, it feels like the whole room has shifted a few degrees outward, or else I’ve shifted inward.  The only things that remain static are a stone dais, the jet-black throne atop it…

And the Devil, himself, standing at the edge of the dais.

“Ah,” he says with feigned surprise.  “You’ve arrived.  And in good spirits, at that.”

“You sound awfully pleased about that,” Julian says.

“Well, of course,” the Devil says, spreading his hands, “I expected you to fall at the first hurdle, and yet here you are.  I do so enjoy surprises.”

He strolls to his throne and sits, looking utterly relaxed, as if he is simply entertaining guests.

“Now,” He says idly, “As pitiful as your attempts to interfere are, you have become an unwelcome nuisance.  However, I abhor unnecessary conflict, so I will offer you one final chance—Turn around and leave.  So long as you do not interfere with my plans, I will not pursue you.”

With my head held high, I meet the Devil’s unblinking gaze.  Although his eyes glow balefully at me like hot coals, I do not shrink or back down.

“We haven’t come this far for nothing,” I say defiantly.  “We’re going to stop you.  We’re here to fight.”

The Devil throws back his head and laughs, a dark rumble that shivers through the cavernous space.

“My, my,” he tuts, chuckling lowly, “Do you really think that you have even the slightest hope of stopping me?  Your hubris will be your downfall…. No matter, I thought it might be quite entertaining to see what kind of fight you can put up, so I’ve called in a few debts.”

With a gesture of his hands, four figures appear behind him in a flash of bright, red light that leaves me blinking spots from my vision.  For a moment I can’t see them clearly, though I catch the ghosts of their chains, but as my eyes adjust, I suck in a breath.  The figures behind him are familiar to us.

Praetor Vlastomil. Pontifex Vulgora and Quaestor Valdemar all wait patiently for direction.  Procurator Volta folds upon herself, hysterical and calling to Nadia for help.

“Oh, my sweet Countess!” She shrieks, “I do not want to do this!  I did not want to be part of this!  I never wanted to!  I was forced!  He knew I was so very, very hungry!”

“Shut up, Volta!” Vulgora snarls.  Volta falls to the floor in a fit of hysterical tears.

I cast a look to Nadia just when a terrible wind howls through the arches, carrying a discordant, wailing chorus.  Hundreds of voices lament their fate, their foolishness in challenging the Devil.  The gale reverberates in my chest and shudders in my bones.  Blackness flickers at the edge of my vision.  Two voices ring out from the din, almost undetectable at first, until they cry out Asra’s name in unison.

Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of Asra, wide-eyed.  He raises his hands, magic flaring brightly in the air.  It silences the wind, quiets all of the voices except for the two calling to us.

Asra knows the voices.

“Mama?”  He breathes.  “Baba?”

“Yes, Asra!” They call back to him.  “Be careful!”

“They’re here,” Morgana whispers in disbelief.  “They’re in the realm, Sweetheart…. We’ll finally find them.”

Asra nods, a new surge of determination on his face.

“Mama, Baba, I have to fight,” he shouts, not knowing where to look for them.  “But I will find you!”

Suddenly, a transparent wall materializes in front of the courtiers, barring them from us.  Try as they might, they cannot get through.  This is not our work.  A quick look to Asra shows me he is as surprised as I am.  The courtiers are trapped behind the wall. 

It’s just us and the Devil.

“You’ll pay dearly,” the Devil says.  “You waste my time when I need to be getting on with my ritual, and you upset my entertainments, rushing straight for the fight… But you should know better than to use your energy so early on.  Foolish Sevrina—I cannot believe you brought your real body to the fight. I underestimated your recklessness.”

I force myself to stand straight, although my legs feel like water and my heart pounds.

“Some things are worth the risk,” I say defiantly.

“So you would throw away your life… For what?” The Devil asks, “Glory?  Power?  If you want those things, you need only ask.  I can give you whatever you desire.”

“No,” I say resolutely.  “I want nothing you can offer me.”

I reach out without looking.  Julian takes my right hand.  Morgana, my left.  Everyone gathers behind me, laying hands on my arms and shoulders.

“I’m here for my friends, my family, my world—For our future,” I say.  “You can’t give us that.  We will seize it for ourselves.”

With every word I speak, our combined magic builds, reaching an ever higher crescendo.

“How very _human_ of you,” the Devil sighs, “Ever so short sighted… and short-lived… I tire of this.  You’re boring me.”

The Devil lifts a black-clawed hand.  Chains flash into existence around our bodies.  Before I can get my bearings, the chains pull taut.  We’re all sent stumbling away from each other. 

“Sevrina!” Julian cries, reaching for me with his long arms.  I reach back, but can’t get near enough to grasp his hand.

“Fight fair, you bastard!” Mazelinka shouts.

The Devil laughs and holds up his empty hands as a low, sadistic laugh rolling through him.

“Me?” He says, the picture of amusement, “I’m not doing anything.”

The chains aren’t coming from the Devil, or even from the realm.

They’re coming from _us_.

“You know, Sevrina,” the Devil chuckles, “We do have our similarities after all; We bind others to ourselves.  We tie their fates, inextricably to our own.  There’s just one difference—My subjects know who holds the chains.”

He snaps his fingers.  I’m bombarded with feelings that aren’t my own.  Nazali’s fear.  Julian’s pain.  Portia’s insecurity…  The weight of it all crushes me to the unforgiving floor, forcing my breath from my lungs.  I can just barely see the others buckling under the pressure themselves.

“Look at you!” The Devil leers, “None of you are in control, and so you only hurt each other!  Your bonds make you weak and confused! You crush yourselves under the weight of your misguided attachments, and now, _they will be your_ _downfall_!”

It hurts to breathe, but somehow, I find the strength to speak.

“You’re wrong,” I say with a calm that catches the Devil’s attention.  He clasps his hands behind his back, studying me.

“Am I?” He asks mockingly.  “Do enlighten me.”

“You and I are _nothing_ alike,” I assert.  “It’s not only fear and pain we share.  It’s hope.  Joy.  Love.  All the things that make us human, all the things you’ll never have.  These bonds aren’t a burden.  They’re our _strength_.”

With each word, the chains binding me grow lighter and lighter, until I realize they aren’t chains at all.  In a flash of light, they transform into golden ropes, shining in the dark.

“It hardly matters,” the Devil chides, “Even a very strong ant is still but a lowly ant.”

Black flames come crashing down on me like a wave.  He means to kill me where I stand.

I bring all the magic I have to bear.  The flames catch on the crescent edge of a shield spell.  It won’t hold for long, but I don’t need it to. With both hands, I grasp the golden ropes.

They may not be the same as the Devil’s chains, but I’ll bet they can bind him just the same.

Power and agony roar through my body, an uncontrollable tempest of magic that threatens to tear me apart.  It’s all I can do to hold myself together.  The pain blooms outwards from my chest, shooting down my arms and legs, tearing unrestrained screams from my throat.  This magic was never meant to be used like this, in a body so fragile, by a mind so human.  I double over onto my knees, trying desperately to focus through the pain.

I… I can’t do this.

Thunder booms, and the realm is cast into darkness.  My shield cracks and shrinks under the onslaught, my last desperate attempts to hold back the flames are but a breath away from failure.  I can’t hold out much longer.

“And after all that fuss,” the Devil tuts.  “This is all you can muster?  How pathetic.”

The flames around me press greedily inward, painting the throne room in a hellish light.  My vision swims dizzily as I will my resistance to hold out a moment longer.  Then a moment longer.  And another moment longer…

“This is where your path ends, Fool,” the Devil laughs.

“Not on my watch!” Julian cries out. He forces himself up to his knees, struggling against the roaring flames.

“Don’t you know when you’re beaten?”  The Devil laughs.  “Stay down, and I’ll make this quick.”

But Julian does not back down.

Even without a body, he isn’t immune to the searing heat or the grievous pain.  He lets out a ragged scream.  Nonetheless, he forces himself to his feet, and takes a step toward me.  Then another.  Bit by bit, he pushes through the wall of flame, his hand outstretched.  At last, his fingers brush my arm, and then, with a great effort and a cry of pain, he lunges forward, closing the distance, and folds himself over me protectively.

“Got you!” He breathes.  “I’m here, Sevrina…”

As soon as he touches me, the pain abruptly lessens for us both, even as Julian bites down on a pained cry.  In the dark, light flickers under my skin.  It’s just barely an ember, flickering weakly, but it’s there.

He’s giving me his magic.

“Sevrina!” Portia shouts.  “Ilya!”

With a fierce yell, she hurls herself through the flames, and towards us.  Her hand lands solidly over mine, where it’s curled into a vise around a rope.

Then Mazelinka fights her way through to us, roaring ferociously.

Then Morgana and Asra fight their way through the flames, determination blazing in their eyes.

“Sevrina, you can do this!” Asra cries.  “We can do this!”

Nazali and Nadia hang on to each other as they struggle upright, and fight their way through the pain and to my side.

My friends are surrounding me, each laying their hand on my body, each giving me their strength and their magic.  As they lay their hands on my back, my shoulders, my arms, the pain subsides for all of us.  We share it, just as we share our power.

Light whorls under my skin, eight different auras melding into a single, blazing beacon. Finally, I have the strength to raise my head, and look defiantly at the Devil, who looks undisguisedly astonished.

“How?” He demands, rising from his throne, a towering figure painted in flame and shadow.  “How are you doing this?  You’re weak!  Mortal!  Why won’t you just die?  I can crush you with a thought!”

“I don’t think you can,” I say obstinately.

With his terrible claws, he grasps the golden ropes.  They blacken, transmuting into chains.  It feels like a sickeningly oily claw slowly closing around my heart, but he cannot break our bonds.

Magic radiates down our hands, and the Devil’s corruption flakes away like ash, revealing the golden ropes once more.  And this time, they are glowing ever brighter.

“No!” The Devil screams furiously.  “This is my realm!  I am the master here—I cannot be defeated!  _I will not allow it_!”

The Devil howls in fury.  The arches writhe at impossible angles, growing eyes and teeth as they spear down towards us.  Geysers of blood erupt through the floor, cracking the dais and painting the walls with a lurid red.

Together, we are stronger.  Stronger than he is.

Light coruscates across the ropes, and they surge forward all at once.  They wrap around the Devil, binding his arms, his legs, his torso, and then the terrible heat abates.  So does the pain, leaving me gasping for breath in its wake.

Wherever the ropes touch, white spreads across the Devil’s body.  Though he rages, the realm crashing down around us, he can’t stop it. 

He’s turning to stone.

Julian gasps in realization, his grip on my hand tightening.

“You haven’t won!” The Devil screams as his glowing eyes dull, “You will never win!  I’ll get out, even if it takes a thousand… a million years!  You will rue the day you thought to oppose me!  _Do you hear me_?  I will—”

Before he can tell us what he’ll do, his face seizes, petrified into a hideous snarl.  Abruptly, the realm falls silent.  The flames extinguish, the wind dies out, and the ground stills.

I look up at the Devil’s frozen visage.  The stone radiates fury, a silent howl promising vengeance.

“If that day ever comes, and you escape,” I whisper, still panting for breath, “Someone just like us will be here to stop you.  You can be sure of that.”

I step back, and then exhaustion hits me all at once.  I sway, my head spinning, and my legs buckle.

“Easy, Sevrina,” I hear Portia say softly.  I’m supported by seven pairs of hands as everyone gathers close to me.  Julian takes me into his arms and helps me to stay on my feet.

“Sevrina, my Love,” he breathes against my hair, “You did it.  We did it….”

I look at the exhausted, triumphant faces around me, and manage to smile, and then Nazali looks up from us.

“What’s happening to them?”  They ask, pointing to the courtiers.

Each are shaking, except for Valdemar.  Vulgora, Vlastomil and Volta tremble visibly until they stop suddenly, each buckled on their knees, and are suddenly changed, skin pinker, eyes brighter, more human than before.

“Their bonds to the Devil are breaking,” I whisper.  “They’re… They’re powerless.”

Vulgora and Vlastomil are howling at the realization of their fate, and Volta continues to weep, begging for understanding from Nadia.

But Valdemar stands unnervingly still as they absorb this new reality.

“Why, never in my thousand years,” they say lowly, “Never in my thousand years did I consider the possibility of such an outcome…”

Suddenly, their figure seizes violently, causing the other courtiers to scurry away as far as they can get from within their translucent prison.  Valdemar shakes and bends disturbingly as their chains materialize, link after link falling to ash, and then from the ground up, they begin to shrivel until only a desiccated mummy is crumpled to the ground in their clothes.  After an eerie moment of silence, their body itself falls away into ash, crumbling to dust on the floor.

“Oh, my sweet Countess, have mercy upon me!” Volta cries, a new surge of terror shifting through her.  “I do not want to be a pile of ash!  I have never wanted to betray you, my dear Countess, I beg you!  He knew I was so very hungry…!”

“She’s telling the truth, Nadia,” I say.  “We heard the courtiers plotting.”

“Yes,” Julian adds.  “She was very clearly an unwilling party.”

Nadia nods her head sagely and casts a glance to Volta, who, though still trembling, chin quivering, quiets herself.

“Mama?” Asra calls out.  “Baba, are you there?”

“Yes, Asra!” They reply in unison.

“He’s hidden us behind a veil,” his father replies.  “And our magic is heavily, but not completely bound behind it—We’re unable to reveal ourselves to you, unable to defend ourselves.”

“But we were somehow able to put a barrier between you and the demons,” his mother adds.

“Could we three do a revealing spell?” I ask Asra as I gesture to Morgana and I.  “Would the three of us be able to free them if we combine our magic?”

“You’re still trembling, Sevrina,” Julian says. “Do you have magic to give?”

“I’ll find it,” I insist.

“Let me see if I can find some too, then,” he replies.  “Asra, will this work?”

“It’s worth trying,” Morgana says, reaching out her hands to us.

I’m still feeling too weak to stand up on my own. Morgana and Julian gently help me to sit on the stone floor, and the four of us sit in a tight circle, and we join hands.

“Julian, send your magic into the circle,” I say softly.  “Just like in the Tower’s realm—Send as much as you can, even if the circle feels full.”

“Anything you say, Darling,” he whispers.

“Alright,” Asra says.  We all close our eyes and pour our magic into the circle of our hands.  Asra chants something in a language I don’t understand. The air inside of the circle begins to glow like a light spell.  It swells and builds pressure until it feels very tight, and then it bursts, washing over us.  When I open my eyes, Asra is scrambling to his feet, and I look behind us.

A woman in a pale headscarf and a man with fluffy brown hair and spectacles are opening their arms to him, and embrace him fiercely.  Morgana follows him swiftly and they hold their arms out to her, too.  The four of them weep unabashedly.

Julian helps me to my feet again, and I stumble.  I’m leaning on him more heavily than before.

“Easy, now,” he whispers.  “This has taken so much out of you, Kitten… I’ll carry you…”

My head lolls and my legs buckle. Julian sweeps me up into his arms and I fold up against his chest, struggling to keep my eyes open 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just feel so unsteady….”

“Don’t apologise,” he says, kissing my forehead.  “I’ll get you home.”

 

Julian is still carrying me through the realm when I open my eyes again.  I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but when I look around I see we are on the glittering shore of the Magician’s realm once more.  Asra’s parents and Procurator Volta are now with our group.  Julian feels me stir and smiles.

“You were out like a light for a short while,” he whispers.  “Asra says we won’t be long getting home, now.”

“Volta is here?” I mumble softly.

“Yes… Turns out the devil found her starving one day.  She was desperate and made a deal with him—The cruel bastard said if she did a deal with him, she would always have food.  Turns out he never said she would ever take nourishment or feel full…. Despite all that she would eat, she continued to starve.”

“Oh Gods,” I heave.  “That’s so sad…”

“Vlastomil and Vulgora were banished to Justice’s realm,” Julian explains.  “There’s still so much I don’t understand, but after freeing Aisha and Salim, they were able to use their magic to send them to another realm.  Try not to worry, Sevrina, just rest.  We’re all safe and we’re going home.”

I lay quietly in his arms as the group continues to walk.  I’m vaguely aware of hushed chatter around us, though I struggle to take in any of the words until we reach a pool of water.  In it, we can see the reflection of the willow in the garden at the palace, and I can see Faust looking down into the pool from the tree’s decorated branches.

“Is that the palace garden?”  I hear Volta ask.

“Yes,” Asra explains.  “When we go through the portal we will come out of the garden fountain, and we’ll be home in Vesuvia.”

“Nothing to fear now except getting wet,” Morgana adds with a smile.

“Ilya, we will all be in the garden when we come through the water except for you,” Asra explains.  “You’ll be in your body, where Portia’s hidden you.  Sevrina, can you stand?”

Julian nods and lets me down onto my feet gently, steadying me by the arms.  I’m exhausted, but I manage to stand on my own.

“I’m alright,” I say softly.

“Ilya, your body is in a hidden room just behind the salon,” Portia says.  “It’s a room other servants don’t even know about.  Just sit tight and we will find you there in a few minutes.”

Julian nods.  “Sevrina, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I whisper with a weak smile.  “I’m only very tired.”

“I’d like to ask you all to join me in the ballroom once you’re in your body again, Doctor,” Nadia says softly.  “I imagine the crowd will be desperate for an explanation…. Nazali, will you please help me to gather the crowd into the ballroom?”

“Of course, Dia,” Nazali says.  “And any of our sisters will be happy to help, I’m certain—When I see any of them I’ll get them on the task.”

“I’ll see you shortly,” I whisper to Julian.  “Go get your body... Portia and I will be there in a few minutes.”

“I love you,” he whispers, and kisses me on the forehead.

“Dive in, Ilya,” Asra says reassuringly.  “We’ll be with you soon.”

Julian nods and approaches the pool before squeezing my fingers and heaving a breath.

“Alright,” he says, letting go my hand.  “Sevrina, I’ll wait for you and Pasha, but don’t be long…”

“We won’t be long,” Portia says.  “Now hurry up!  We all want to go home—Don’t make me shove you in!”

With a laugh, Julian looks determinedly at the pool, and then casts me a glance.

“I’ll see you shortly,” he says with a wink, and jumps in.

“Let me go through to the fountain first, Sevrina,” Asra says, “Just in case you’re struggling for strength—I’ll be able to help you.”

I nod my head and Asra steps up to the fountain, and dives in without hesitation.

I step up next, and jump through.

I wobble as I burst through the water, and Asra takes hold of my arms as he helps me out of the fountain.

“There we are,” Asra says with a laugh.  I step out of the fountain and then stumble, but I manage to keep my feet with Asra’s support.  Portia comes through next, then Morgana, Mazelinka, Aisha, Salim, Volta, Nadia and Nazali.

“Everyone come close, and I’ll dry you,” Aisha says.  A wave of magic passes over us all like a warm breath, and suddenly all of our clothes are dry.

“Sevrina, let’s go get Ilya,” Portia says encouragingly.  “We’ll meet you all in the ballroom!”

We step away from the crowd and Portia ushers me into the palace with her arm around my back.

“Are you alright?” She asks at the top of the stairs, “Am I rushing you?”

“I’m alright,” I reply.  “I just want to see your brother safe in his body again….”

“Nearly there, Sevrina, don’t worry... I know a quick way there.”

We turn down a hall that is cut off from the masquerade and she presses a panel in the wall.  A door opens, and she motions me to step through.

“After you,” she says.  “We’ll be there soon…  And it’s a good thing I know all of these secret passages.  Getting his body in here wasn’t easy—It would have been a lot harder to have to casually drag him through the party, although I suppose I could have pretended he was drunk…”

I can’t help but laugh at the idea.

“Thank you for saving him, Portia,” I say softly.  My legs wobble beneath me and I stop to support myself against a wall.  “We wouldn’t have made it if not for you.”

She turns her head and sees me stumble, then returns to me and puts a supporting arm around my waist.

“Easy, Sevrina,” she whispers.  “Here—Put your arm around my back and we’ll walk together.  I’ve got you.  It’s not far now, only a few steps.  Are you alright?”

I nod.  “Yes, I’m alright…”

We stop before another panel, and Portia presses on it lightly.  It swings back, and we step into the secret room, a hidden storage cupboard.  Julian is sitting on the floor.  The feathers of his jacket are rumpled and he’s covered in dust, but he’s back and in his body.

He raises his head and smiles when he sees us, and gets up from the floor to help me.

“Sit a minute, Darling,” he says softly, helping me to the floor.  “Rest a moment—Nadia will understand.”

I nod and stumble to the floor.  Portia and Julian take seats with me.

“Ilya,” Portia asks, “I have a question that might sound silly….”

“What is it, Pasha?”

“You have your memories back, now, don’t you?”

Julian nods.  “Yes.”

Portia smiles.  “Is this the same Sevrina you wrote to me about before the Count’s death?”

Julian grins.  “Yes she is.”

Portia’s eyes well up.  “I knew it.  I knew it…. In a day or two I’ll bring something to show you…”

Suddenly we hear Malak cawing.  He flies through the door and into the secret room, and flutters down to Julian, preening his hair.  He croaks at him and then Mazelinka comes through the door.

“Malak started squawking at me the second he saw me in the ballroom,” she explains.  “He was impatient to get me to you—I think he needed to know you were alright, Ilya.”

Malak caws in affirmation and then flutters over to me to inspect me.  He pushes his head under my hand until I scratch him under the chin, and Julian gets to his feet, followed my Portia.

“We had better get to the ballroom to meet up with Nadia as she’d asked,” Julian says.  “There’s just one problem.”

“What is it?” I ask as Julian helps me sluggishly get to my feet.

“I’ve not got a mask or an eyepatch,” Julian says nervously.  “The sight of this eye is likely to start a panic.”

“Come here, Julian,” I say.  “Let me try to hide it…”

I use my fingers to brush his curls in front of his right eye as best I can.  It’s not perfect, but it would fool anyone who didn’t look too closely.  It will have to do.

“Just try not to shake your hair away,” I whisper.  “If you keep those curls in front, no one will notice.”

Portia comes around to inspect the makeshift disguise, and nods.

“Yes, that’s good, Ilya,” she affirms.  “Just keep your hair pushed forward like Sevrina says.”

 

It’s difficult to fight through the dense crowd in the ballroom, but everyone else is there when we get to the staircase.  The crowd is murmuring and whispering to each other, and Nadia smiles when she sees us making our way forward.  I stumble a few times, finding it more and more difficult to lift my feet.  When we reach the foot of the stairs, I need to be helped up them.  Julian lifts me into his arms, prepared to hold me, but at the top of the landing, Asra comes to meet us and reaches out for me.

“Ilya, let me help her a bit,” he says, “You’ve done so much already, and Nadia wants to acknowledge you and explain why you’re not dead.”

Julian laughs kisses my hair. “I’ll be right here, love,” he whispers.  “Let your brother hold you while I fumble my way through an explanation.”

I nod and Julian places me gently in Asra’s arms.  I lean my head on his shoulder and hold on around his neck.  Morgana comes to our side and kisses my hair.

“Rina, you’re so brave,” she whispers.  “You’ll get to rest soon, sister….”

I jolt when Portia unleashes a piercing whistle to hush the crowd, and Morgana pets my hair and hushes me.  The whistle quiets the crowd enough for Nadia to begin her address to them.

“People of Vesuvia,” she calls out to the Masquerade guests, the effortless projection of her strong voice hushing the last of the crowd’s murmurs like a wave.  “The danger is passed.  Lucio resurrected himself with the help of black magic forces, but he has been defeated.  You have my assurance that you are all safe, so please stay calm and listen.”

The last of the murmurs fade into attentive silence, and Nadia beckons Julian nearer.

“It is difficult to explain with brevity, but Doctor Devorak sabotaged his trial in order to be executed, because he knew it would send him into a magical realm where he could find the cure for the plague, which would have come back with Lucio.  He was wrongly convicted and is innocent of all charges against him.  His self-sacrifice and heroism, coupled with the truth of his innocence, lead me to granting him a full pardon of his conviction, and all record of his falsified crimes will be struck from record immediately.”

She turns to face Julian and asks him to remove his gloves.

“I regret, Doctor, that there is nothing I can do for the brand on your hand, and this is of great shame to me… I trust the Vesuvian people will be grateful for your sacrifices, and that you will be able to travel freely through Vesuvia untroubled even without hiding it under a glove.”

The crowd cheers in confirmation.  I ask Asra to let me to my feet.  When he does, I step over to Julian’s side.

“Thank you, Countess,” Julian says, a blush forming across his cheeks as he bows his head to her meekly.  I smile and feel tears welling up in my eyes.  At last, my beloved’s name is cleared, and he is truly free.  He looks overwhelmed, and I place my hand reassuringly on his arm.  He turns his head to smile at me, and puts a supporting arm around my back.

“Vesuvia is saved from the plague because of Doctor Devorak, Sevrina, the magician, and their friends,” Nadia continues, “But this is only the dawning of a New Age of reformation and restoration to this city.  I am taking this opportunity to announce formally that I will be forming a new team of aides to assist me in easing the suffering and poverty in Vesuvia, beginning first with restoring the Flooded District.  I cannot assure an overnight fix, but I will promise that any concerns held by even the smallest citizen of my city shall have the ear of the palace.  What Lucio did to Vesuvia is unforgivable, and in my fear of an additional attack on the palace, I closed my walls to the city, without knowing the extent of the problems you’ve been facing.  That is not a mistake I will repeat.  You have my word.”

The crowd again applauds and cheers.

“All of that being said, given the unplanned route the evening has taken,” Nadia continues, “I regretfully declare the need to adjourn the festivities with your kind understanding.  What food is left is being prepared in parcels as we speak to be distributed at the doors as you are leaving.  Please do not leave hungry.  I promise that the next event of this kind will go much more according to plan.  I thank you all for coming for the Masquerade, and I wish you all pleasant dreams.”

The crowd does nothing to protest, and everyone begins to slowly disperse, gathering their friends and belongings.  Nadia turns to the group of us and exhales a heaving breath.

“Thank you, Nadia,” I whisper, and suddenly, all of the pressures of the last few weeks rush forward in me, and I burst into tears.

“Oh, my dear friend,” she says, reaching out to take me into her arms.  “This has all been so heavy on your shoulders, hasn’t it?”

I can’t summon the strength to answer, I just squeak.  Morgana comes up from behind and whispers the breathing mantra to me.  I manage to settle myself and step back from Nadia’s embrace enough to wipe my tears away.  Morgana kisses my cheek and then takes her place again at Asra’s side, as she can see in Julian’s expression how desperate he is to comfort me.  As soon as he has the space, he pulls me into his embrace and presses tiny kisses into my hair as he silently holds me.

“Given the enormity of what we have all been through, not least Sevrina and the Doctor, I think rest is absolutely essential for everyone’s health,” Nadia says softly.  “Doctor, Sevrina, your room is ready, of course.”

“Thank you,” Julian whispers.  “I think it’s best we go there, now—Sevrina badly needs her bed...”

The others talk a moment about their accommodation, and I vaguely hear that Mazelinka will sleep at Portia’s and Julian offers to get her home next day.  All I am really focused on is the hand Julian’s placed at the back of my head, his thumb running back and forth over my hair.

After another moment, Julian draws back and lifts my chin to look at him.

“You need your bed, Darling,” he says.

I nod weakly, and he offers his arm to me.  We step away from the group to go to our guest quarters.

“Rest well,” Nadia calls after us. Julian gives a backwards wave. 

I hear Mazelinka murmur lowly, “Poor thing, she’s so exhausted….” 

When we reach our room, Julian opens the door for me and motions for me to go in ahead of him.  I walk wordlessly to a chair by the window as Julian discards his feathered jacket.  I drop into the plush seat and take off one of my shoes. 

“You’ll be asleep, shortly,” he whispers, dropping to a knee on the floor and untying my other shoe. “Not long now, Sevrina.”

I nod and try to smile, letting my hands fall into my lap.  When I’m barefoot, he tugs at my hands to coaxes me to standing, and steps around my back to unfasten the buttons at the back of the dress.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers. 

“I love you, Julian,” I reply, and wipe fresh tears from my cheek.

“I’ll get your night dress,” he says, “You get out of this, and you’ll be on your pillow in just a moment.”

I take off my dress and underslip as Julian goes to the window to unfold the satin night dress Nadia has sent.  When I cast my clothes to the floor, Julian steps forward, smiling lethargically, and slips the nightgown over my head.  Once it’s smoothed down my legs, I go to the bed to pull the covers back and he starts to undress.  When I sit on the edge of the mattress, I sigh deeply, and begin to weep again.

“Oh, Darling,” Julian whispers, then comes to sit at my side and take me in his arms.  “Let it out, Dearest.   No breathing mantra, no squashing it down.  Let it out…”

I cling to his shoulders and he rocks me sweetly.

“I’m here, Sevrina… Give it to me.  Give me all of your worries and pressure and pain… Let me take it, Love… Let me hold it for a while.  Give it to me… Let it out…”

“Is this a trick?” I whimper.  “Is the Devil tricking me?”

“No, Kitten,” Julian whispers, kissing my cheek.  “No, no… It’s over, Sevrina.  You’re safe.  We’re safe, we’re together and nothing will ever change that.”

I weep in his arms for a few minutes as he assures me of our safety.  He presses his lips against my hair over and over again, and when I finally settle, he wipes away my tears and smiles at me sweetly.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“And I love you,” he says softly.  “Get comfortable, my Sweet One.  Let me get out of this costume and I’ll hold you.”

I nod and scoot into my side of the mattress.  I recline onto my pillow, which has never felt so soft, and watch him undress.  He pulls his satin trousers up his long, white legs, and, grinning sweetly, climbs into the bed beside me.

“How do you want me?” He whispers.  “Behind you?  Cuddled in?”

“I don’t care,” I whisper, “Just get your arms around me.”

He laughs lowly and rolls towards me, pulling me against his chest like a spoon, curling his fingers with mine at my breast.

“Don’t fret, my Little Mouse,” he whispers, nuzzling into my ear, “There are no more tricks, no trials, no pain.  All that is ahead of us are wonderful possibilities.  We are exactly where we have been fighting to be.  Our future starts now.”

“Your name is cleared,” I whisper.  “You’re completely free.”

“We don’t have to hide anymore,” he says.  “We don’t have to hide ever again, and our future is so bright…. Sleep now, my Little Rabbit.  Let yourself slip away to sleep…”

With his breath and sweet whispers in my ear, I close my eyes, and give in to sleep.


	25. The Fool

I awaken late in the day.  The sun, streaming brightly through the gauzy curtains, is high in the sky.  Julian is splayed out on his back, and I’m lying with my head on his bare chest, his arm protectively around me.  The light brings out all of the fiery copper highlights in his hair, whorls of warmth framing his angular face—Such a comforting sight, serene and beautiful—I adore this man with every fibre of my being. 

I stretch and groan softly, and then turn back to look at his face.  His eyes are closed, but the slightly turned-up corners of his mouth betray that although he’s relaxed, but not asleep.  Playfully, I pull myself up on one elbow to look down over his face, and I brush his curls away from his eyes.

“Julian,” I whisper very softly.  “Are you awake?”

He tries to supress his smile and I lay my hand alongside his cheek.  To someone that didn’t know his face as well as I, it would be convincing, but I’m not fooled.

“Julian, my Love,” I whisper.  Still he pretends to be asleep, the silly brat...

I laugh softy and I draw myself up to him and nuzzle into his cheek. 

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” I purr.  “Oh, I forgot… Sleeping beauty needs a kiss to wake up…”

He is smiling irrepressibly as I press tiny kisses over his cheek and when I near the corner of his mouth, he turns his head and kisses me full on the lips. He rolls me over onto my back as he kisses me.  We’re both laughing when we part.

“How do you feel?” He asks as he looks down at my face.  He pets my cheek and peppers my forehead with soft kisses.  “Do you feel better?”

“If I’m honest, I’m still feeling run down,” I admit.  “I’m not feeling quite like myself.”

“Are you still feeling weak?” He asks, “Or just in the ways that you always feel weak in my arms?”

He winks and I laugh softly.  He nuzzles my nose sweetly.

“I don’t feel weak,” I explain.  “I just feel drained, so tired and a bit anxious… I’m not looking forward to the walk home, but my heavens do I want my own bed… I just want to go home and for things to be normal.”

“I’ll ask Nadia if she will send you in a carriage,” he says.  “You can go with Asra and Morgana… I’m sure Pasha will have a lot on her plate today after the party, so I’ll get Mazelinka home and meet you at your flat after… If that’s alright, of course?”

“Yes, of course,” I say.  “You are always welcome to sleep in my bed, Love—I want you to come to me tonight… My bed is yours.  You know that don’t you?”

He smiles sweetly.

“It will be quite something to sleep in that bed with you again,” he whispers dreamily.

He kisses me softly before rolling onto his back, pulling me along with him to lay on his chest again.  I cuddle up to him for another indulgent moment, letting his tender fingers trail over my hair, listening to the contented thrum of his heart.

“Why do I still feel this sense of dread?” I whisper.  “I feel afraid to move and afraid to be still all at once.”

“Consider everything that’s happened the last few weeks, Sevrina,” he murmurs.  “You’ve been pressed to your limit.  You were pulled out of your depth into a murder investigation, depleted yourself to save me, wandered magical realms, fought a demon and I seem to remember something about binding the Devil?  You could barely walk last night.  You’re exhausted, Darling.  It will probably take a day or two to feel like yourself again.  Be gentle with yourself—You’ve saved the world.  Give yourself time to catch up.”

I run my fingers through the hair on his chest and sigh.  He kisses my forehead before patting my shoulder, signalling it’s time to face the day.

“I know you don’t want to move, Darling,” he whispers, “But you’ll feel a bit better for wear after some breakfast, don’t you think?”

Reluctantly, I agree, and we dress for breakfast.

 

When we step into the dining room, Nadia is sitting with Portia, Aisha, Salim, Mazelinka and Asra over empty plates.  Morgana isn’t here.  I notice with relief that the painting of the beast-headed figures is no longer on the wall.  Nadia sees us first, and smiles.

“My friends,” she says, rising from her seat and coming to greet us with open arms, her rich silks flowing on the air behind her as she moves.  She meets each of us with a kiss to the cheek, and steps back, beaming. 

“I’m so glad to see you up,” she says sweetly.  “I didn’t want to disturb you.  Please sit with us and I’ll have your breakfast brought out to you immediately.”

“Thank you, Nadia,” I say softly.  “You’re too generous.”

“Oh, you know too well I’m not half as generous as I’d like to be,” she teases. 

“Coffee, Ilya?” Portia asks.

“Gods, yes,” he says, ecstatic at the suggestion, “Please.”

We take seats and Portia goes to the golden contraption in the back corner, returning with a cup of coffee a moment later and setting it in front of Julian.  A moment later, plates are placed before us, bearing cheeses, a flatbread and poached eggs along with a side dish holding a portion of mixed fresh fruits.  My mouth gets wet at the sight of food, and I tuck in eagerly.

“Before I forget, Doctor, this was found in the library,” Nadia says, handing him his eyepatch.

“Oh, thank you, Countess,” Julian says, taking the eyepatch from her and putting it back on.  “I was beginning to grow concerned about how I would travel through the city without causing a panic…”

“That’s better, Ilya,” Mazelinka laughs.  “That red eye gives me the fear.  Besides, that eyepatch always did help you look the part of a pirate!” 

Julian smiles.  “ _The Pirate Doctor of Nevivon_ has a good ring to it, doesn’t it?”

We all share a laugh on either side of the long table.

“All of us have been discussing issues the city faces this morning,” Nadia says softly.  “There are a few questions that I would like to as you in particular, Doctor.”

Julian puts down his coffee cup and gives her his attention.

“I am at your service, Countess,” he says.

She smiles and glances sidelong at the others.  They must know her plan, as they all begin to smile.

“I was speaking with Nazali,” she begins, “And we thought it would be good for the city to have a palace-sanctioned clinic to go to.  They’re in the city at present searching for properties for sale.  I want you to run it.”

Julian starts.

“If that is agreeable, of course,” she clarified.

“Countess, I… I’m speechless,” he says softly.

“ _Ilya_ , speechless?  You’ve broken him, _Krasotka_ ,” Portia laughs.

“That’s not all,” Nadia chuckles.  “I want to reinstate you as our court physician.  Will you accept the offer?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Julian says, a bewildered expression on his face.  “I… I’m humbled, Countess.”

I reach over and squeeze his hand, my heart swelling with pride.

“Nazali plans to stay in Vesuvia a while,” Nadia explains.  “I expect they will feel the pull of travelling again in time, but they will help to establish the clinic once we have bought a suitable property and made any necessary renovations.  I’d like your input at every step of the process, Doctor.”

“Gods, I… I don’t know what to say,” Julian stammers.  “Thank you, Countess.  Thank you for everything.”

We continue to talk at the table for a while.  Asra’s parents will be staying at the palace for a time, helping to draft up plans to improve the aqueduct system.  Salim has some ideas to propose to help the Flooded District and Nadia thinks that Consul Valerius will be a great partner in helping to implement them.  Nadia says she will speak to Volta about helping to end hunger in the more impoverished parts of the city.  Asra wants to help the orphan street children down by the docks.  And then Nadia turns to me.

“And you, Sevrina,” she says. “I want you to be involved, as well.”

My mouth falls agape a moment, but I quickly collect myself.

“Nadia, you will always have my help,” I say softly, “But I have no desire for titles or position….”

She holds up a hand to quiet me.

“I know this, Sevrina,” she says with a kind smile.  “I want only to ask you to advise me when I need help.  To be friend to the palace and visit often.  Be an ear for my troubles, and allow me to be an ear for yours.  You spoke to me of profound loneliness the night we spent talking on the veranda—I want you to know without question that there is no need for such loneliness any longer… I know you have always had Asra and that you have your sister and the Doctor now, but you also have Portia and myself to turn to.”

My eyes well up and I smile, nodding.

“Thank you, Nadia,” I say softly, pressing my hand to my heart.  “Thank you for your friendship.”

 

Nadia arranges a comfortable carriage to take Asra and I home.  While Asra speaks to his parents, Julian says he’ll take Mazelinka home by foot at Mazelinka’s insistence to avoid the palace carriage raising eyebrows in her part of the South End.  Julian tells me that he will make sure that Mazelinka has all that she will need from the market before he comes to my flat, but that he will come to me straight after.

I embrace him before I get into the carriage with Asra, but my stomach twists with anxiety as it did before sleep last night.

“Julian,” I whisper, “I don’t know why, but I’m still afraid…”

“You’ve been through so much, Darling,” he says, kissing my cheeks.  “Don’t be afraid. You will feel better when you’ve rested. I’ll be there before long and I will remind you of all the wonderful things that lie ahead until you believe me.  I want you to try and rest.  I won’t be upset if you’re asleep when I arrive; I’ll come and sit beside you.  Don’t fear, my Sweet One...  Nothing will hurt us, and I’ll be there soon to cheer you up.”

I nod and repeat the breathing mantra until I find my calm.  Julian kisses me.

“Rest, Kitten,” he says sweetly.  “I’ll be there soon.  You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead.  “Trust me when I say I will see you in a few hours.  I’ll hire a carriage from Mazelinka’s to get to you as quickly as possible.  Will you try to rest?”

I nod my head.  “I’ll try.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, Julian.”

A kiss to my fingers, and he walks off with Mazelinka.  Nadia and Portia approach Asra and I to wish us well.

“I trust I will see you before long,” Nadia says sweetly, taking our hands.  “Do take time to convalesce.  I will invite you to the palace again very soon, my friends.”

“Thank you, Nadi,” Asra says, embracing her.  “You are always so giving.  We look forward to hearing from you soon.”

“Yes, Nadia,” I say.  “Thank you for everything you’ve done.  I don’t know what to say that could possibly convey my gratitude.”

She smiles and embraces me.

“Say you will come to the palace when you feel better,” she says, “This time and every time after as my friend.”

“I will,” I say softly.  “I look forward to your invitation.”

Nadia parts the embrace, smiling brightly.

“I think it best you take the Doctor’s advice and rest,” she says.  “You have given all of us so much of yourself.  It’s time you paid yourself that kind of attention.  Let yourself be spoiled for once—I’m sure the Doctor will be happy to pamper you.”

I nod and half-laugh as Nadia winks at me and steps back to make way for Portia.

“Sevrina,” she says, taking my hands.  “I have something I’d like to bring to you and Ilya.  Do you think you’d feel ready for a visitor tomorrow afternoon?”

I smile at her.  “Portia, you and Nadia are always welcome in my home,” I say.  “And I’m sure your brother would love nothing more than for you to stop by and see us.”

Her face lights up.

“Fantastic… I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon so you have the chance to sleep late.  Make yourself well, Sevrina.  We all love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say softly.  Portia gives me a warm, earnest hug, and then steps to Nada’s side.

“We should head home now, Sevrina,” Asra says.  “Ilya’s right—You need to rest.”

I nod, and Asra helps me into the carriage.  I turn to Nadia and Portia and wave goodbye.

The carriage ride is quiet.  Asra tries to coax me into conversation, but I feel weepy and anxious.  I don’t understand why Morgana is not with us but I don’t ask—My head aches with fatigue and I don’t want to cry anymore.  Asra moves  from across from me to sit next to me in the carriage and puts his arm around me comfortingly. 

“Why don’t you try to sleep a bit, Sister?” He suggests.  “I’ll bet Ilya will be at our place to cheer you up in no time. He has always rushed to be with you, he was always so enamoured by you…. And I do believe his love of you is even deeper now, if such a thing is possible…  I remember once when he and I were with Lucio at the palace, he was planning to see you in the afternoon, and our appointment went long.  He was so fidgety, just wanting to go to you.  The moment he was dismissed, he burst into a sprint and ran on foot to your rooms and was quite out of breath when he got to you…”

I laugh softly and settle into his comforting side as he speaks, and will myself to rest, letting the irresistible, rocking rhythm of the carriage lull me to sleep.

 

I wake not far from home, still resting against Asra’s shoulder.

“Nearly there,” he whispers when I stir.  “Feel a bit better, Sevrina?”

I wipe my eyes and nod.  “A little… I think I’ll sleep well tonight.”

“That’s good,” he says softly.  “That’s good, you need it.”

The carriage halts in front of our shop, and I sluggishly disembark at Asra’s heels.  He slips a coin to the carriage driver with a smile, and we thank him for driving us down before opening the door and heading inside.  We go straight up the stairs, and I take my pack to my room as Asra puts the kettle on for tea.  I unpack my things from my stay at the palace and sort out my washing.  I feel anxious, like I need to keep busy.  I go to the kitchen and take the washing tub out from under the sink and make to take it up to the rooftop garden to do laundry when Asra takes my arm.

“Sevrina, leave the laundry tonight,” he says.  “It can wait.  Please come sit and have some tea.  Relax.  You can do that in a day or two.”

I nod and reluctantly return the washing tub to its resting place under the sink.  While we have our tea, Asra explains to me how his parents had become imprisoned by the Devil.   Years ago, they were the makers of Lucio’s alchemic golden arm.  To have a truly one-of-a-kind piece, Lucio threw them in prison so they could never make another, and told Asra they’d been executed.  Asra had to fend for himself in the streets from the age of nine.  The Devil, knowing their connection to the Arcana Lovers, wanted them bound to him to secure their presence at the ritual, which he’d been plotting for years.  He approached them separately, telling them that he could save Asra from the wrath of the Count if they made a deal.  Neither knowing where Asra was, and neither knowing the other had made a deal to save him, they found themselves bound in the Devil’s chains. 

The story is desperately sad, but Asra is serene in telling it, as if thousands of old hurts have come to healing at once.

“They’re free now,” he says softly, and smiles.  “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course, Brother,” I say, and then our talk fades into silence.  The quiet itself is not uncomfortable, but I fidget, feeling restless, as if it’s dangerous to stop moving.

“I’m hungry,” Asra says, getting up from the table.  “But I don’t think there’s much here, since we’ve been away so much.”

“I’ll walk to the market,” I suggest.

“No, Sevrina, it’s alright—I’ll go,” he protests.

“Asra, I need to be doing something,” I say.  “I can’t stand being still right now… Please.”

Asra nods.

“Besides, I’ll stop by and ask Selasi about the baby,” I say with a smile.  “Pumpkin bread?”

Asra grins.  “Alright.  Thank you, Sevrina.”

 

When I return home, Julian has already arrived and is inside, sitting with Asra at the kitchen table.  They both look content, and are sharing an easy laugh over coffee.  Julian’s eyes light up when he sees me and he rises from his chair to greet me.

“Hello, my Darling,” he says, enveloping me in in his long arms.  “I got here as quickly as I could.”

I kiss him quickly in greeting.  “How is Mazelinka?  I thought you’d be another while, yet.”

He smiles.  “She’s fine.  She told me to get to you.  _Ilya, you know damned well I can fend for myself. It’s Sevrina needs your support right now,_ she said.  She said if I didn’t hustle, I’d see the business end of that spoon.”

I catch Asra smiling to himself out of the corner of my eye. 

“Are the two of you still getting along alright?” I ask.

“We’ve been reminiscing,” Asra says.  “Mostly about pranks Ilya would play on me back at the palace, and the ways I used to find to annoy him in return.”

“Oh, if I recall, you initiated plenty of pranks yourself,” Julian retorts, taking my shopping and setting it on the table. 

Asra begins rummaging through my string bag and scoffs playfully, “Ilya, I would _never_.”  Then he looks at me, winks and mouths _Yes, I would!_

“I’m glad you’re friends again,” I say, laughing softly.  Julian is beaming at me.

“I have to go now, Sevrina,” Asra whispers excitedly, whisking the pumpkin loaf from my               bag.  “But I’ll be back tomorrow with Morgana.”

I perk up at this.

“She’s coming back?” I ask eagerly.

Asra laughs softly.  “Of course she is.  She needed to bring some things back from my gate.  We have a couple of surprises for you both.”

“What are you up to?” I ask suspiciously.

“Nothing troublesome,” he assures me with an airy laugh.  “I promise.  You’ll see tomorrow.  It will be worth the wait.  Trust me, Sister.  It’s only Ilya that has to be on his guard for pranks.”

Asra’s smile is infectious, I can’t hold back a grin. 

“Alright,” I say softly.  “I trust you.”

When Asra rises from the table he pats Julian on the shoulder before moving around him to embrace me.

“You deserve a good surprise or two, don’t you think, Sister?” He says softly.  “Because Morgana and I think so.  You’ve struggled so much the last few years, it’s time you were able to be truly happy.”

Asra kisses me on the cheek and gathers his coat before retrieving Faust from sunning herself in the kitchen window, cosy in one of her many snake hammocks.

“We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he says.  “And we will explain everything.  Try and rest up, Sevrina, and I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he smiles and is away.

“He seems excited,” Julian says, turning his attention to my shopping bag.  “Can I help you with this?”

“No, Love, it’s not much.  I’d bought some cured pork and some bread because I knew Asra would fuss if I were to cook… Though, I had thought perhaps I’d make fig cakes, but if they won’t be here tonight…”

“You should be resting, anyway,” Julian says, putting my shopping away.  “We can make the cakes tomorrow for their return.  I’ll help.  What do you think?” 

I nod.

“Sit, love,” he says sweetly, pulling out a chair at the table.  “Do you want something?”

“I’ll put the kettle on,” I whisper.

“Sevrina, are you alright?” He asks.  “Asra says you’ve been restless.”

I sigh as I fill the kettle and light the stove.

“I’m tired,” I whisper, “But I can’t make myself sit still, I’m so anxious… I feel like I need to keep busy, keep moving, or something bad is going to happen…”

“Shh,” he hushes me, pulling me into his arms.  “Relax, my Darling… It’s only you and I.  There are no wicked forces surrounding us, no threats of devils or plagues.  We’re quite safe…”

It’s easy to still myself in his arms.  He has a way of buoying my spirit that always catches me by surprise.

“I love you,” I murmur.

“Oh, I love you, Kitten,” he whispers.  “And I want the best for you and your health.  I’m a doctor, remember—The _court_ physician, in fact…”

I laugh softly as he squeezes me and kisses my hair.

“I’m a doctor and I know what exhaustion looks like,” he whispers.  “You’ve given so much of yourself.  Let yourself rest, now.  As a favour to me, if you must think of it that way.”

I nod my head and pull back to kiss him.

“Anything for you,” I whisper, and meet his lips with mine.

 

Once we’ve eaten, Julian coaxes me to sit with him on the sofa.  He plucks up a book of poems from a shelf in the living room, and reads to me for a while as I lie with my head on his lap and listen intently.  With such long fingers, he holds the book open effortlessly with one hand, only lifting the other from my grasp to turn pages.  He reads to me a while, until the sun is low and I can no longer supress a yawn.

“Let’s get you to bed, Kitten,” he whispers, closing the book.  “You’ll come and sleep if I lie beside you, won’t you?”

“Yes,” I mutter. “I’ll sleep.”

I sit up from his lap and he stands, turning to me to help me to my feet, and a question occurs to me.

“Julian, do you own your own vielle?” I ask.

“Not at the moment,” he says quietly.  “Being on the run so long meant travelling with only essentials.  I don’t even own much in the way of clothes—Just what I can wear and an extra shirt and trousers.”

“I’ll make you new clothes,” I say, “You’ll just need to let me measure you… But I want you to have a vielle…  Are they expensive?”

Julian shrugs.  “They don’t have to be, I suppose, but to get one with a really fine sound the price would go up, certainly.”

“I want you to buy one soon,” I say softly.  “One worthy of your skill.”

“We can take a wander to the music shops in Goldgrave this week, if you like,” he says.  “But shouldn’t I be saving up for our little getaway sloop?”

“The vielle first,” I say contemplatively.  “I would have loved music tonight…”

I step around the couch back and open the door to my room.  Julian is at my back.  He pauses in the doorway, an emotional expression on his face when I turn back to him.

“Is something wrong, Love?” I ask.  He smiles sweetly.

“No, Dearest, I just… I can’t believe I’m here again,” he says.  “Do you… Do you remember the day that I broke into the shop and you caught me here?”

I laugh.  “The day that you had me search you to be satisfied you weren’t a thief?”

Julian chuckles.  “Gods, I was dying to kiss you,” he says.

“I was wishing you would,” I laugh.  “I was desperate for you to.”

Julian smiles and leans against the doorjamb, blushing bashfully. 

“I’d been here searching for about an hour before you arrived,” he says.  “I was looking in the little tarot room down in the shop and my eye kept going to the stairs… Some compulsion made me go up them…. When I was in your flat, I touched nothing except my temples, my head was twinging in pain.  And I looked at your bedroom door.  _That’s her room_ , I said to myself.  I just knew… I stepped over and opened the door, but I stayed back—I’d broken into the shop, yes, but I… I didn’t want to intrude.  My head was killing me and I willed the memory to come back, but though it didn’t, I felt certain that I knew you, and nearly certain that I’d loved you...  I gazed over your room for several minutes, wanting to walk in, wanting you to be there with me.  I imagined undressing with you and making love to you in your bed, but I mostly just thought of you in my arms.  Kissing you, petting your pretty hair, telling you how beautiful you are.  After a while the longing was unbearable and I closed the door again, and went downstairs to resume my search.  Not long after that, you came in.  I can’t explain the flood of emotions in me when you touched me that day.”

My eyes well up as he speaks, emotional at the memory of the aching moment we stood only inches apart, his gloved fingers caressing my cheek while my hands were still against his sides under his shirt.  The tension, the longing, my heart thudding in my ears so hard I thought it would burst.

“My heart ached so badly,” I breathe.  “I could smell your skin…  It _hurt_ … I wanted you to stay...”

The tears break over my cheeks and Julian takes me into his strong, loving arms.

“Hush, Kitten,” he says, putting his arms around me.  “I know it’s been a lot the last few weeks, but we are exactly where we want to be, now, aren’t we?”

I manage to nod my head and he wipes my tears from my cheeks.

“You’re right,” I whisper, softly laughing.  “Our future is here now…”

“We fought so hard for it,” he breathes, pressing little kisses to my forehead, “We fought so hard, and we’ve won it.  Just remember that… Now, I’m used to operating on some level of sleep deprivation, but you, Love—You need rest.  It may take a day or two for you to feel right again, but that’s only because you’re exhausted…. Just remember we did it.  We made it.  And we will be together for always.”

I squeeze him tightly around the middle and he kisses the crown of my head.

“Why don’t we get into bed?” He says sweetly.  “I’ll tell you some stories, read you poetry, anything you like until you’re sound asleep, and I know you’ll feel much braver in the morning.”

I laugh softly and agree.  He reaches down to kiss me sweetly, softly.  When we part, he is looking into my eyes with such deep tenderness it makes my heart swell.  He watches me change for bed and then begins to undress.

“Do you mind if I sleep in my skin?” He asks.  “I don’t own any night clothes, but I can sleep in my trousers if you prefer.”

“Don’t be silly,” I laugh.  “Sleep in your skin.  I’ll make you some clothes in the coming weeks… Perhaps we should buy you a few new things as well, to give you a few more changes of clothes until I can get a few things made.”

“Anything you say, Kitten,” he says as he shimmies out of his trousers and pulls back the covers.  We climb into bed and he lies on his back, beckoning me to cuddle in to his side.  I lay my head over his chest and he reaches to put out the lamp.

I feel safe.  It all feels right now; peaceful.  I’m at home with him, where we belong.

“I’m in your bed again,” he breathes, and presses a kiss to my hair.  “Oh Gods, how my heart longed to be here all these years… How lost I felt until I found you again…”

I reach up to kiss him.  He is tender and sweet, caressing my hair.

“Do you want a story, Love?”  He asks.  “I could tell you about the time I was kicking up mischief in Firent, drunk, and unfamiliar with the language—I stopped a nun and tried asking for directions, but whatever I actually said led to her trying to exorcise me…”

I laugh and kiss him.  “No, save that one for another time,” I say.

“What would you like to hear, then?” he asks, still chuckling.

“Tell me what you want our life to be like,” I whisper.

I can see him smiling in the dim light as I reposition myself to lay my head in the crook of his neck as his long arms pull me in.  He pets my hair with tender fingers as I lay my hand over his heart and nuzzle into his jaw. 

“I’ll take you to Nevivon in the summer,” he begins.  “We’ll go to the salt baths and I’ll show you an entirely new meaning to being pampered…. I want to show you the world, Sevrina.  I want to chase horizons with you.  I want to give you everything you ever desired.  When we’re not on holiday, we’ll share a little home here in Vesuvia… Down the line once we’ve wandered the world a little, we’ll settle in and there will come a day when I can hold you in my arms while you hold a tiny, pink babe to your perfect white breast… I’ll awe over you while he suckles and I’ll kiss your cheeks while your fingers trace over the faint swirls of red hair on his head…. He’ll have your green eyes and my hair, and I will be so overcome with love it will pang in my chest and I’ll weep into your hair while I whisper to you thousands of thanks for the happiness you’ve given me…”

I listen to his warm voice intently, soaking in his peaceful presence.  The scent of his skin and the comforting weight of his arms around me still all of the day’s anxieties effortlessly.  With Julian whispering such loving words, such deep-held hopes, it is easy to drift away to sleep.


	26. A New Beginning

When I wake in the morning, Julian is out of bed.  I hear him humming to himself from across the hall, an occasional swishing splash of a basin of water.  I think about taking a bath and the thought becomes increasingly delicious.  I get up from my bed and stretch, shaking away the final remnants of sleep still clouding my head, and follow the sound of his crooning to the bathroom. 

The door is open, and I see Julian is standing over the basin, shirtless, towel around his waist, slathering his face and neck in shaving foam with a thick bristled brush.  His hair is a wild mess of wet, untamed curls—He must have washed.  He’s singing a drinking song lowly to himself and I can’t hold back a smile.  I lean against the doorjamb and chuckle to myself.

“Good morning, my Little Sparrow,” he says when he sees me, winking happily.  “I’d kiss you, but… Well… Foamy face.”

I grin sleepily.  “Good morning, Julian.  Do you mind if I run a bath?”

“Not at all, Kitten,” he says, lathering up more foam, “I won’t be in your way for long.”

I step into the bathroom and approach the bathtub, and turn on the spigot and I take a seat on the edge of the tub, watching as Julian runs his straight razor up and down a taught strip of leather.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he says, casting me a glance in the small mirror above the basin.  “I figured if I made myself presentable I could sneak out and do the market run before you’d know I was gone.  Now, I suppose I’ll just go out while you have your bath.  So much for surprising you with breakfast, that spoils my plans a bit.”

“I’m sorry love,” I say softly.  “I didn’t mean to spoil anything for you…”

“Not to worry, Dearest,” he says with a flirtatious lilt in his voice, “I’m sure you’re creative enough to find a way to make it up to me…”

He looks up at me in the mirror and winks at me.  He stretches out his face and draws the razor blade down over his stubble, making a soft scraping sound. 

“How do you do that without cutting yourself?” I ask softly.  “If it were me, I’d be in ribbons.”

“Practice, my Darling,” he laughs as he rinses the razor, “I won’t say I never catch my skin but I’ve learned to get it pretty smooth—think I could moonlight as a barber?”

I smile wryly at him.  “Let’s see what you can do with that wild bunch of hair on your head this morning before you commit to it as a career.”

Julian laughs softly and smiles at me in the mirror.

“Anything in particular you fancy for breakfast?” he asks.  “I’m no talented cook, but I do make an excellent fruit crepe, if I do say so myself.”

I smile.  “That sounds delicious.”

“And what else am I to buy?” He asks.

“Will you pick up some fresh vegetables and some prawns?  Maybe a loaf of seed bread from the baker?”

“I will certainly,” he says, drawing the razor down his face again.

“Go to the new fishmonger, though,” I say.  “I never buy from the old one, now.  His fish doesn’t seem to be fresh these days, and the last time I went by, the scallops were so spoiled the gulls wouldn’t even go after them.”

“New fishmonger.  Absolutely.  Anything else you need?”

“No, I picked up what I needed for the cakes yesterday, so only if there’s anything special you’d like… I hope I have time to make everything before they arrive—I slept later than I meant to.”

“You needed the sleep, Kitten,” Julian says sweetly.  “Besides that, I’ll be as much help as I can be.”

I smile at him.  He looks in the mirror at me and winks again.

“Your eyes are bright and you look rested.  Did you sleep well?”  He asks.

I nod.  “I did, yes… I feel much more myself today.  Did you sleep?”

Julian rinses his razor in the basin.  “I actually did,” he says, unable to repress a surprised smile.  “It’s not often I sleep so well.  What a feeling to be back in your bed again… Just like home.”

He rinses his face and pats it dry with a towel before unscrewing the top of a small glass bottle and patting his face with the contents.  It smells of cedar.  I smile at him as he turns around to me, and flashes me a debonair grin.

“What do you think?  Good enough for a kiss?”

I smile and rise from my seat on the edge of the tub and throw my arms around his neck.

“Who told you you’re allowed to be so handsome?” I whisper as I pass my hand over his wet hair, drying it with my magic.  “I’m quite sure that smile will absolutely ruin me.”

He laughs and kisses me.

“Thank you, my Little Star… To have such rich complements spring from a mouth of such supreme beauty is overwhelming…”

He kisses me again, laughing softly through it, and pulls back with a great big grin on his face.

“Sevrina, how you fill my heart with joy… the happiness you bring…”

I squeeze him tightly around his middle and he kisses my hair before parting the embrace.

“Right… I’ll need to tame this hair of mine and dress,” he says, “And then you can have peace to bathe while I run to the market and then I’ll dazzle you with breakfast…. Though if you’re still undressed when I return I can think of a thing or two to delay the crepes…”

I giggle and kiss his cheek.  “We won’t have time… Asra and Morgana are coming for lunch, and we’ll need to cook. And Portia is coming later this afternoon with something for us—I wouldn’t want to rush my time with you.”

Julian laughs softly.  “Always so sensible,” he says with a laugh, picking up his comb and fixing his hair.  “Right.  You get in the bath and when you’re finished I’ll be cooking you breakfast.  How does that sound?”

“Mmm, lovely,” I whisper.  His face breaks into a broad grin and he pats my bottom.

“Love you. I’ll be back shortly.”

“See you then,” I murmur.  He gives me a kiss and leaves me behind in the bathroom.  I hear him shuffling about with his clothes and boots in the next room as I turn off the water and pull a towel down from a peg on the wall.  I set it down on the floor beside the bathtub, and shimmy out of my night dress and let it drop to the floor, and step into the tub.  I sink into the water with a fluttery sigh and smile to myself when he knocks the door.

“A kiss before I go to the market, my Little Fish?” he calls in.

“You just want to see me naked!” I call back to him with a laugh.

“Guilty as charged, Darling,” he chuckles.  “Have mercy on a man in love?”

“Come here,” I say, and he opens the door, grinning wickedly when he sees me.  He’s put on his eye patch.

“Oh, just look at you,” he breathes.  “Breath-taking… One evening you’ll have to let me pamper you, Dearest… I’ll get you some rose-scented bath salts and when I’m finished with you, you’ll be so relaxed your legs won’t want to carry you to bed…”

He bends down for a kiss and smiles, a dreamy look in his eye, and then he shakes his head, and splashes me playfully, making me laugh.

“Right,” he says, rubbing his hands. “Breakfast first—I promised.  I won’t be long.”

“See you soon,” I say.  Smiling, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.  A moment later, I hear his footfalls trot down the stairs, and the reverberation of the door closing behind him as he sets off for the market.

I sink down into the water, letting the heat envelop me, and just lay there a short while, willing my groggy mind to wake, and contemplating the coming day.  What, I wonder, could Asra and Morgana be surprising us with?  And what was it Portia was so eager to show us?

For a moment, my anxiety returns and washes over me intensely.  I close my eyes and remember what Asra told me

_Start with your breath.  Think only about your breath.  Savour your breath.  Lead with your heart and be present._  

I let out a long, controlled exhale, inhale, exhale until the panic passes.

I’m safe.  Julian is safe. And for the first time since we’ve all been reunited, we will be seeing our friends and sisters.  Today will be a happy day.  I smile and begin to look forward to seeing them all in the comfort of my home, as guests, without the threat of disaster.

Grinning slightly to myself, and sink back to wash my hair.  Once I rinse the soap out, I sit back up in the bath and set to washing my skin.  Once I feel clean and fresh, I exit the tub and wrap myself in the towel.  I hear the door open downstairs and Julian calls up to me.

“It’s only me, Sevrina,” he shouts as he ascends the stairs.  “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re dressed—you can help me prepare everything.”

“Yes, Love,” I shout.  “I won’t be long.”

I towel myself fairly dry and drain the tub, then gather my night dress from the floor and pad out to my bedroom.  I go to my armoire and open the doors.  I pause, looking over my old dresses, the pretty ones I’d made years ago.  I choose a claret dress with my handmade lacework around the cuffs of the long sleeves and embellishing the neckline.  I have no memory of wearing it because of the neckline being wide, but I am not ashamed of my scars anymore.

Once I dress, I pass my hands over my hair and dry it with my magic.  I line my eyes and then I choose a pair of slippers and some modest jewellery for the day and I comb out my hair before walking out to the kitchen. 

“What do you think?” I ask softly.  “Is this alright?”

Julian looks up from the bowl he is whisking batter in, and smiles when he sees me.  He’s taken the eye patch off now that he’s returned, leaving it on the worktop.

“I remember that dress,” he murmurs delightedly, setting the bowl aside and coming forward to admire me.  “You wore that dress the day we first said _I love you_ …  When I met you at your door, I told you how beautiful you looked and then faltered and complimented the colouring of the dress against your complexion— You blushed and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.  I was such a bumbling idiot…”

He takes my fingers and passes his thumbs back and forth over the backs of my hands.   I feel my cheeks heat up.  He looks at me wistfully. 

“I didn’t tell you then, so I’ll tell you now how gorgeous you are when you blush…”

He bends to kiss me and I slide my arms around his neck.  When we part, he is chipper and ready to get back to his cooking.

“I promised you breakfast,” he says with a wink.  “Then I will only be able to _help_ you cook… I’m not much of a culinary, you’ll come to find… But I’m a good taste tester!”

I laugh.  “I’ll put you to good use, Julian, don’t worry.”

“Oh, don’t phrase it that way if you want me to think of _food_ ,” Julian teases as he pours the batter into a pan on the stove.  “All I’ll be able to think of is feeding you chocolates and lying you back on the kitchen table and having you for dessert…”

I chuckle and kiss him quickly.  “Don’t get carried away now, we’ve no time to make this fantasy a reality today—we need to cook!”

Laughing, he kisses me again and when we part he exhales heavily.

“Right again… Do you fancy making some coffee?”

 

A short while later, after I’ve finished eating the most delicious berry crepe I’ve ever tasted, Julian cleans the prawns and helps me to cook in preparation for the impending arrival of Asra and Morgana. Once we have a tray of fig cakes cooling on the counter and I have fried up a large pan of prawns and vegetables, I hear Asra call up the stairs.

“It’s just us,” he shouts as they begin ascending the stairs.  “What are you cooking?  Can I have some?”

I call back to him with a laugh, “Yes, that’s why I made it!”

Asra and Morgana reach the top of the stairs, hands joined, and Morgana carries a small pack.  I have never seen Asra so unreservedly happy.  Faust is happily curled around his shoulders and flicks her tongue out excitedly as Asra sweeps me into a hug and kisses my cheek in greeting, and to Julian’s surprise, he does the same to him before inspecting the prawns in the skillet.  When Faust flicks her tongue out to inspect Julian, he makes sure he’s a measured step away from her, and then a second, rose-hued serpent sticks its head out from under the flap of Morgana’s pack.  Julian steps behind me when he sees the second snake.

“Oh Gods, there’s two,” he mutters lowly, beginning to laugh, “I forgot there were two.”

Morgana laughs as the snake slithers out of the pack and onto her shoulders.

“Are you afraid of the snakes, Ilya?”  Morgana laughs.

“Not _afraid_ ,” he says defensively, “I just remember they seemed to find a lot of humour in squeezing me, and I’d rather they weren’t given the option.”

I step over to Morgana and her snake presses his head into my hand when I make to introduce myself.  Morgana chuckles.

“Prospero remembers you both,” she says, “But he is so enamoured with being reunited with Faust to be too interested in squeezing you, Ilya.”

I reach out and scratch Prospero under his chin and smile at Morgana.  She leans in to kiss my cheek, and though she is smiling, her eyes are welled up when we part.

 “Please don’t be upset,” I whisper.  “I’m so sorry I can’t remember… I wish I could.  But for what it’s worth, we are here now.  We get a new start.”

She smiles and wipes her eyes. 

“No, I just… I missed you so much, Rina,” she says.  “And this is the first time I’ve set foot in the flat since…. Oh, never mind, I’m just so glad to have my sister back beside me.”

Cautious of Prospero, we embrace, and hang on for a long moment before parting.  When we step apart, we see our men are watching us quietly, and Asra is chewing a prawn he’s stolen from the skillet with a smile on his face.

“It’s so unbelievably good to see you two together again,” he says.  “I feel like things can finally get back to the way they’re supposed to be.”

Morgana squeezes my hand and grins.  Julian stays quiet and watches wistfully for a moment before taking it upon himself to lift the heavy moment.

“We’d better make plates before Asra eats all the prawns,” he chuckles, “Ladies, may I serve you?”

Julian plates food for us and we take seats around the kitchen table together while Julian pours drinks and Asra and Morgana let the snakes down onto the table top, where they promptly curl up together in the centre.  When Julian joins us and sits, we eat, we laugh, and Morgana seems so at home after she relaxes.  She helps Julian to carry dishes to the sink once we finish, and I feel a sudden, overwhelming surge of gratitude.   I tug Asra back to me when he goes to follow after them.

“What is it, Sevrina?” He asks quietly.

“I understand now,” I say, tears welling in my eyes.  “I know now why you’ve called yourself my Brother all this time.  I understand now that when you were gone, it was to see her…  I understand why you could never take me with you…. You’ve both sacrificed so much for me, and I can’t even remember…”

Before my tears break, Asra pulls me into a fierce, loving hug.

“Shh,” he says comfortingly, “That’s what family does, Sevrina.  I love your sister so much more than I can say, and the both of us love you.  Although we all struggled, I guarantee we would make the same choices again.”

With my arms around his neck, I hug him tight and when I draw back from him, Julian puts his hands on my shoulders from behind.

“Are you alright, Darling?” he says softly as I wipe my cheeks.  I nod and smile up at him before looking back at Asra, and to Morgana, who has come to his side.

“I’m fine… I’m just so very grateful.”

Morgana comes and takes my hands.  “Sevrina… You’re probably wondering why I went back to Asra’s gate after the fight instead of coming home then… I went back for Prospero, of course, but also a few other things.  Here, sit down, let me show you.”

She motions the four of us into the sitting room outside of the kitchen. 

“I have something for each of you,” she says, and gestures to a seat.  “Ilya, will you sit here, please?”

Julian casts a questioning glance at me and then does as he’s asked, and Morgana retrieves her pack from where she’d left it in the kitchen, followed by Asra, who is carrying both snakes, and lets them curl up on the back of the armchair where Asra takes a seat.  Morgana rifles through her bag a moment before pulling out a small dropper bottle and a pale blue handkerchief.

“Ilya,” she says as she walks over to Julian, “In the Magical Realm, there exists a plant called the tiger-leafed whiteberry bush.  This tincture is made from that plant, which has magical healing properties.  This tincture can clear the red from your eye.”

Julian shoots up straight at that.

“Really?”  He says, dumbstruck, “Can it, really?”

Morgana laughs.  “Do you think I’d waste your time, Ilya?  Yes, it can take away the red.  I used this on Sevrina after Asra brought her back, and her eyes are clear as can be.  Do you want to clear the red out, or have you grown too attached to the eye patch?”

Julian laughs.  “Yes, please do.”

Morgana winks at me with a smile as she unscrews the bottle top and squeezes the small bulb at the end, drawing the tincture into the dropper.

“You might feel a bit of heat or itching, but it won’t harm you, and it won’t last long, so bear with it,” she explains.  “It just might be a bit uncomfortable for a few minutes.  After it clears, you might find you’re a little light-sensitive in that eye, but that will be temporary.  Let me know if I can help it at all.  Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Julian says excitedly.

“Alright, lean your head back,” she says, and when he’s properly situated, she drops three drops of the tincture into his eye.

“Close your eyes, now,” she says, and Julian obeys.  “It will only take a few minutes.”

Asra is smiling as he watches, one hand idly scratching Faust under the chin as he gazes at Morgana.  I can see the depth of love for her in his eyes and it makes my heart swell.

This is my family.

Asra looks down at Faust and laughs softly.

“Yes, Faust,” he says laughingly.  “Happy.”

Morgana watches Julian carefully for a long moment as she unfolds the handkerchief. 

“How are you doing, Ilya?” she asks softly.  “Uncomfortable?”

Julian laughs, “A little.  It’s intensely tingly…  Is that alright?”

“Just fine, Ilya.  I’m going to give you a handkerchief.  When the tingling dies down, your eye will begin to water, and your tears will look like blood.  Don’t be alarmed, that’s the process.  Your eye will be fine.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Julian mutters as Morgana puts the handkerchief in his hand, “That would have been… rather jarring.”

We sit in quiet while Morgana keeps checking in on Julian’s comfort level.  Asra is cuddling with the snakes and smiling, looking at Morgana dreamily. Julian’s eyes are shut tight and after a moment he heaves a sigh.

“That’s the tingling died down—time for the big reveal, then?”

Morgana smiles.  “Yes, just be mindful of the red tears.  You’re wearing a white shirt, have the handkerchief ready.”

Julian sits up and then leans forward over the floor before opening his eye into the linen handkerchief Morgana has given him.  The pale blue fabric blooms shockingly with blood red tears as he pats his eye.  After a moment, his eye stops watering and he looks up at Morgana with a hopeful look on his face.  I’m seated on the wrong side of him to see…

“What do you think?  Good as new?” he asks.

Morgana smiles wide and ruffles his hair with a happy laugh.

“There he is,” Morgana laughs, “ _That’s_ the Ilya I remember!”

“Julian,” I whisper excitedly, “Julian, show me!”

He turns his head to look at me.  Both eyes are bright and healthy.  I reach over to take his face in my hands and I smile in disbelief. 

“You…” I whisper, “You… You’re….”

“Gorgeous?” he suggests, “Magnificent?  Tempting?  The most irresistible face you’ve ever seen?”

“And humble,” I say with a laugh as I nod in agreement.  “Julian, you’re perfect.  You’re perfect…”

I kiss him and then draw back to look at his face again, gently running my thumb over the hollow of his cheek.  He looks unreservedly happy.

“Is it really white again?” he asks urgently.  I can feel a fine tremor of excitement going through him.

“Yes, Julian,” I say. 

Suddenly, Asra rises from his seat and comes to Julian’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder.  He reaches down to hand Julian a small, round mirror.

“Here, Ilya,” Asra says with a smile.  “Have a look and see.”

Julian takes the mirror from him tremulously and then raises it to see himself.  He heaves a forceful exhale that borders on a laugh.

“Fucking hell,” he exclaims, nearly a whisper.  “I can’t believe it… Oh, Gods… Oh, Gods, thank you…  Morgana, thank you…”

“It was my pleasure,” she says, “How does it feel?  Any blurring or light sensitivity?”

“No, my vision is clear as day,” Julian says, “Oh Morgana, thank you…”

He looks at his eye in the mirror another long moment, transfixed, speechless.  His fingers deftly press at the space around his eye, still processing the reality that it has been restored.

“He must be in shock,” Asra teases.  “I’ve never seen Ilya shut up for so long.”

Julian smiles and makes an obscene finger gesture at Asra, and everyone starts to laugh.

“Fig cakes?” I ask, in an effort to lift the heaviness in the room.  “They ought to be cooled by now.”

“Yes!” Asra says first, followed by a wave of agreement from my sister and Julian.

I kiss Julian quickly and trot out to the kitchen and bring out our desserts.  After I pass them out, I take my seat beside Julian.  Morgana has made herself comfortable, sitting on a cushion on the floor at Asra’s feet, resting her head contentedly on his knee.

“So,” Asra says through a mouthful of cake, “We wanted to tell you something important today.”

“What is it?” I ask, hoping for happy news.  Julian puts the mirror aside and takes my hand, interlacing our fingers.  Asra and Morgana both smile, which waylays my initial jolt of anxiousness.  It’s going to be good news.

“I’ve been saving for a long while, and I bought us a small house on the Round Street just past the market,” Asra begins.  “Morgana and I are going to move ourselves there to live.  Mama and Baba will be living with us there.”

“We’ll still be here to help run the shop,” Morgana explains.  “There’s just not enough room up here in the living space for all of us.  And besides, we wanted to make room for Ilya to come here and be with you.”

“And we want to start our own family right away, which would make even less room for you two,” Asra continues, running his fingers sweetly through Morgana’s ash blond hair.  “We want to make up for the time apart.”

“Oh my goodness,” I breathe. 

“There’s another thing,” Morgana says, smiling.  “We’ve waited such a long time now to be married… We’re going to go to the monastery in a week to have our marriage solemnized by a monk.  We want the both of you to be there as our witnesses.”

“Of course,” I say, nodding my head as if it’s on a spring.

“We wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else,” Julian adds.

“Can I do anything to help you prepare for it?” I ask.

“No, no,” Morgana says, raising a hand to stop me, “It’s going to be a quiet thing.  No real party or extravagance, and besides, Nadia has taken the planning upon herself.  We just want to be married, and we want the two of you there with us.”

Asra bends down to kiss her and she reaches up to meet him.  Their affection is so genuine and pure that it makes me smile and turn to Julian warmly.  He opens his arms to me and I scoot over on the couch, and I’m just about to settle into him when there is a knock at the door.

“I think that must be Pasha,” Julian says, and leans over to kiss me before rising from his seat.  “I’ll go get it.  Be right back.”

Julian steps lively down the stairs and a moment later, I hear Portia’s excited voice.

“Ilya, your eyes!”

I look over to Asra and Morgana and we all smile.  I suddenly feel my heart swell again with gratitude.

“Thank you both,” I whisper, my hand over my heart.  “For everything…. You’ve sacrificed so much for me and I don’t know how to repay you.”

“We love you,” Morgana murmurs.  “It was all worth it to get to this moment, all together again.”

Julian ushers Portia upstairs and she is looking around, taking in the new space, then snaps out of it and smiles.

“Sevrina,” she says, coming over to embrace me.  She is holding a small parcel in her hand and when we part, she turns to say hello to Asra and Morgana, who has gotten off the floor and is giving Portia her cushion to sit on.  Portia sits on the floor near Julian’s feet, and Morgana curls up close on the armchair with Asra, her legs dangling off the side as she settles into his lap.

“I brought you something, Ilya,” Portia says, “I don’t exactly know how you’re going to react, but my gut said you’d want to see them, so here they are.”

She hands him the parcel, which is wrapped in a piece of linen, and Julian unwraps it curiously.  He starts to laugh to himself when he sees they are a handful of letters he’d written her back in the time at the palace working toward a cure for the plague.

“I saved all of your letters,” Portia explains, “But with the happenings of the last few weeks, I thought these are the ones you’d want to see… They’re in order.”

Julian is already unfolding the first and starts to read it aloud.

 

_My Dear Pasha,_

_I apologize for the length of time between this and my last letter.  Things have been very busy, here._

_How are your lessons going?  Are you still playing the domra?  I fully expect to hear you play a few songs when I am able to come and visit—I know it’s been too long, but I can’t leave while there’s a plague in Vesuvia—I need to be here to help.  I miss you every day.  Please kiss the grandmas for me._

_How is your vegetable garden fairing?  Have you harvested anything to eat yet? Is grandma Lilinka still helping or have you gone stubborn and determined to do it yourself?  Grandma Masha used to say she would teach you how to grow flowers as well as vegetables.  Have you tried your green thumb there?  I think you’d be fantastic.  It’s so good that you’ve stayed with the grandmas to help with the kids._

_As for myself and my own pursuits, research has been ongoing but I’m still no closer to finding a cure for the plague.  The Count has brought more doctors in, and the disease seems to be growing only at a slow pace right now, which is good—I hope that we can keep up with it until we find the cure._

_But I don’t want to tell you about the plague, Pasha.  Let me tell you about_ her.

Julian pauses and looks over the letter with a smile.  I can tell he is trying to stifle the fact he’s getting choked up, and I reach a hand over to squeeze his knee comfortingly.  We all stay quiet until he can continue.  Taking a heavy breath, he smiles and carries on.

_I’ve made a friend.  An important one._

_Sevrina is a magician’s apprentice and is very knowledgeable about herbs.  She helps me in the clinic two days a week, and studies magic the rest of the time.  She’s learning to tell fortunes by reading cards.  I met her in the very early spring, and we’ve become inseparable.  I’ve never met a warmer soul with a brighter laugh.  I feel right with her.  I look forward to seeing her every day.  And, my Gods, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

_I’d ask her to read my fortune, but I’m afraid it might reveal my feelings to her.  Pasha, I think I’m falling in love with her, and I’m terrified.  I don’t know what to do._

_I miss you, Pasha.  I promise to write again soon._

_—J_  

 

We all sit quietly and watch him as he stares at the letter.

“I remember writing this,” he whispers, an emotional smile on his lips.  “I remember sending it out as quickly as I could, too, to keep from changing my mind…”

“Well you’d better get your bearings for the next one,” Portia giggles to herself.  “Just wait until you _really_ talk about her.  Do you think you’ll be able to hold yourself together?”

Julian laughs softly, rising to the challenge, and wipes his eyes. 

“It was the shock of realization, Pasha,” he says chidingly.  “You caught me off guard.”

Portia laughs.  “Ah, the element of surprise, Ilya!”

Smiling, Julian unfolds the second letter.  I turn to sit sideways on the couch and watch him, leaning one arm on the couch back.  He reads the opening sentences of the second letter and laughs softly to himself before reading aloud.

 

_Dear Pasha,_

_I couldn’t hold back the smile in reading your response.  You completely forgot to answer my questions about you, and dove right in to asking and advising about Sevrina.  I do still want to know how things are in Nevivon, so please take care to update me in your next letter on the happenings in your life!_

_And yes, I’ve admitted it to myself—Rather shortly after sending the last letter, in fact—I am in love with Sevrina, and my heart won’t give me a moment’s peace.  I live for the time I’m near her, and I just phantom my way through our hours apart._

_Her master must sense I’m utterly smitten with her, and he has asked me to keep a distance.  He says he isn’t pleased about the amount of time we spend together._

Julian pauses again and looks up at Asra.

“You were impossible,” he laughs.  “You were actually fucking impossible.”

Asra spreads his hands, “I love my sister and I didn’t want her to be just a conquest for you.  When you hear words like _pirate_ and _rogue_ it makes you nervous.  And then there was the card reading and the fact that you’re a good thirteen years older than her.  But you’ll remember that once I was sure you loved her, you had my blessing.”

Julian smiles and looks back to the letter to continue.

_I told him I wouldn’t be the one to tell her who to spend her leisure time with.  Sevrina says he is only a protective brother (he is betrothed to her sister and has long been family to her), and she insists he will eventually see that our friendship makes her very happy…. What does he feel the need to protect her from, exactly?  Yes, I’ve had perhaps a touch of a degenerate past—I’ve never claimed to be an angel, you know—But how can I convince a man my only aims with his sister are to care for her, to make her laugh and protect her, when all he is looking for is the worst in me?_

_Sevrina seems none the wiser about the depth of my feeling for her, but I don’t know how I can hold it in much longer._

_The Countess holds entertainments for us fortnightly and Sevrina and I have been attending them together.  I taught her to dance, and at the party, we barely stepped off the dance floor.  What a thrill it was to hold her close and waltz—She was radiant, and I told her so.  She blushed and told me not to tease her, and I felt like a prize idiot.  Our goodnight that night lasted for ages.  I get the feeling she didn’t want to part, but I’m probably projecting._

_What should I do?_

_—J_  

 

“Did you advise him, Portia?” I ask softly.

“Not before mercilessly teasing him,” Portia says with a laugh, igniting a ripple of chuckling as she lovingly shoves her brother’s knee.  “But I told him that honesty was the way forward.  I told him that if he wanted to confess his feelings, he needed to do so by making sure you knew there was nothing expected of you, and that if you didn’t reciprocate, it would be best to promise never to bring it up again.  But I _also_ said that if there were entertainments being held at the palace and the two of you were always going together that I thought you must have been fond of him, too.”

“Oh, fond isn’t the word,” Morgana laughs.  “I remember the night of that dance.  Sevrina was in bits with nerves.  _When he holds me near and we’re dancing, how will I stop from kissing him?  If he finds out how I feel will he feel awkward?  Will it ruin everything?_ I tried to assure her that everything would be fine.  I said, _Tell me everything you’re feeling so you can get it off your chest._   I thought it would help keep her from exploding.  She just said, _I love him_ and went quiet.  Now, I’d seen the way you’d looked at her, Ilya, and I knew it wasn’t any silly infatuation on your part, and I tried to get her to tell you _._   And at the dance, I took her aside after watching you two dance and I told her to kiss you that night, that she wouldn’t regret it, because I could see how intoxicated you were by her, Ilya.  Anyway, Asra and I left the dance early and he’d fallen asleep.  I heard you two hemming and hawing in your half-hour long goodnight, and I crept up to the door to listen, and heard Ilya tell you, Rina, and this is verbatim, _Thank you for tonight, my sweet.  Your company is always the greatest of pleasures, and I have never danced with a woman so dazzlingly radiant._   And I was thinking, _Now!  Kiss him now!_ And you fucking choked!  I could have strangled you!”

We all burst into laughter and Julian folds the letter and opens his arm to me.  I scoot over and settle into his side and he turns his head and kisses me quickly.  His eyes are so beautiful.

“You loved me,” he mutters.  “Oh, I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“From what I understand, you’re one to talk,” I laugh.  “Read the next one.”

Julian opens the third letter and I cuddle deeper into his embrace as he begins to read.

 

_Oh, my dearest Pasha,_

_Well, you can take great delight in telling the grandmas that I took your advice.  Tease all you want, I don’t care anymore._

_She loves me.  She told me she loves me._

_Sevrina and I spent an afternoon together and I told her how I feel.  She kissed me.  Oh, I have never been so happy in my entire life… We will keep it quiet for now until she can break it to her master.  Her sister knows about us—she’s on our side and has been trying to get him to see sense.  I don’t want to upset her, so I’ll be patient until she finds a way to tell him… It will be much easier to wait now that I know her heart is with mine.  Until then, we steal kisses when we’re alone and I am happy in the knowledge that she loves me. I am more than happy to let her set the pace._

_I hope that her master and I can become friends.  Sevrina would like that.  And so would I._

_The sachets of seeds contained in this letter are from her—she has harvested them from her own herb garden and says they will make a good addition to your garden, that all are edible and grow quickly.  She has labelled them for you and hopes to hear that they grow well for you._

_Pasha, she loves me!  What have I ever done to deserve this happiness?  I swear I will never be the same again._

_She kisses me, I hold her in my arms, and I keep thinking I’ll wake up from a dream I’m having about her, but it’s real._

_I will write a better letter soon, when I’m not so busy swooning._

_I love you, sister._

_–J_

 

“Ilya,” Portia says softly.  “The last two will be a more difficult read.  You don’t have to read them aloud if you don’t want to.”

Julian nods, a shadow passing over his countenance.  “I know… I want to…. Sevrina deserves to know about it all.”

“Just remember that everything turned out alright,” Portia says, patting his knee.  “We’re all here, and it all fell back into place.”

Julian pats the back of her hand and smiles.  “Thank you, Pasha.”

With one arm around me, he opens the next letter one-handed.  Everyone is quiet for Portia’s warning.  Julian takes a deep breath and reads.

 

_Dear Pasha,_

_I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written.  With the thaw of spring has come a horrific spike in the plague.  The mortality rate is up drastically and curing it is of the utmost urgency.  I’ve been working tirelessly towards the cure.  I wish I could tell you how many I’ve seen dead… It has been so, so many._

_I’ve been conducting experiments in working with blood.  The plague seems too break down arterial walls and I think the cause must be there.  I’m trying so hard.  I’m exhausted._

_Things here are very dark at present….  Sevrina is the light keeping me going.  She gives me strength.  You’ll be happy to know also that she forces me to rest, although being in her arms is hardly easy to resist.  It gives us time to plan our future._

_We’ve decided that once the plague is cured, we will come to Nevivon to see you.  Sevrina is very keen to meet you and has asked me to tell you that she’s greatly looking forward to it.  She was very glad to hear how quickly the springweed and the lion’s tail have sprouted for you—she says the whitebeard flower can germinate slowly cooler climates, and to be patient with it—She insists it will flower._

_Pasha, when you meet her, I know you’re going to love her…_

Julian pauses, and squeezes me, turning his head to kiss my hair.

“I love you so much,” he says, a low laugh rumbling softly in his ribs.  “Oh, this next part… Ooft… Something I never thought in a million years I would say, and then you came into my life…”

I look up to watch his face as he continues on, starting by repeating the last line that he read.

_Pasha, when you meet her, I know you’re going to love her._

_When you meet her, you’ll understand why I am going to ask her to be my wife when the time is right… You’ve always wanted a sister, haven’t you, Pasha_

               

“Julian,” I breathe.  “You never told me you proposed to me back then.”

Julian frowns a bit.  “I never got the chance to, I’m afraid.”

I purse my lips in understanding.  I hug him tightly around the middle.

“Who knows,” he whispers.  “Perhaps I’ll get the opportunity in the future… I would ask right now, because I am not one to shy away from dramatic declarations of devotion, but I won’t just yet… Not when I know that your memories aren’t restored like mine are.  I don’t want to overwhelm you when I know you must be adjusting to so much.”

I squeeze him tight around the middle, speechless.  He kisses my hair.

“I love you, Sevrina.”

“I love you, Julian.”

He turns back to the letter and finishes reading it.

 

_And I want to ask you to come back to Vesuvia with us.  I’ll buy a big house and we can live together.  I’ll set up a permanent clinic and Sevrina can still sell her herbs at her shop if she wants to.  We’ll all be so happy.  You’d really like it here._

_I must stop here for now and get back to work.  Take care and write to me soon.  Your letters do so much for my morale._

_—J_

 

 

                Julian begins to unfold the next letter with an expression that keeps everyone quiet...  I suppose we all know what the next one will be about.  Portia reaches up to still his hand for a moment.

“Ilya,” she says softly.  “If I knew you’d read these all aloud, I wouldn’t have included this one… I only brought it so that you and Sevrina could talk…”

“Pasha,” Julian says, “I know what it says.  Sevrina deserves to know.  And I want Asra and Morgana to know how I was, too.  Asra never saw me again until the night of the Count’s death… I want them to know.”

Portia lets go of his hand.

“I don’t want you to hurt,” she whispers.

“We’re all here, now,” Julian says softly, and continues to unfold the letter.

 

_Pasha,_

_The light in my life has been extinguished.  With it, the plague has stolen all of my hopes and happiness… I can scarcely bear to put this horrible reality down into words._

_My beloved Sevrina is dead.  This horrible disease has stolen her from me forever._

_The only thing I have to live for is to find the cure.  She would want me to, even if it is too late for her, and I will not let her down again._

_Pasha, how can I go on?  I just don’t see a way through… Oh, I love her! I have never known pain like this… such unrelenting, insurmountable grief… Every breath I take feels like an increasing weight upon my ribs, it hurts so much to be alive without her.  I’m certain it will kill me in time._

                Julian stops, and heaves a heavy sigh as tears break over his cheeks.  His arm tightens around me.  Asra is frowning and Morgana and Portia are wiping away tears from their cheeks.  Mine are welling up in my eyes, feeling heavy and ready to break, but they don’t until I press my face into Julian’s shoulder.  He clears his throat and continues.

_Forgive me for failing our bright future, Pasha… I wanted it more than I have the capability of saying…  My heart is irreparably broken._

_I will still come and see you in Nevivon once I find the cure.  Perhaps by then I will know what is to come of this life of mine, but for now I must continue to toil through my despair._

_It reminds me of the storm, sister.  Every wave of grief is knocking me under, over and over again, but this time, I have no will to kick to the surface._

_But I will do this for Sevrina_

_Forgive my failures, Pasha._

_—J_

 

               

Everyone is silent for a long moment.  Julian takes me into both arms and draws me nearer.

“You’re here, you’re here,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.  “You’re alive.  You’re here…”

I hold him tightly.  Portia rises from the floor and steps over to hug him from the other side, the both of us muttering soft reassurances.  Asra is holding Morgana, kissing her knuckles and whispering little comforts to her.  Julian turns his head to kiss my hair.

“I’m alright, Darling,” he whispers.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Julian, I’m alright.”

Julian turns his head to Portia and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you, Pasha,” I hear him say.  Her reply is a low murmur in Nevivonian, which makes Julian chuckle, and he replies to her in the same tongue.  She takes her seat back on the cushion and I look up to see Asra wiping Morgana’s tears gently away, and coaxing a small laugh out of her as the snakes press their snouts to her cheek.

“Would anyone mind me asking something?” Portia pipes up.  “I’m just a little confused.”

“What is it, Portia?” I ask softly.

“It’s just… If you died of the plague,” she says, spreading her hands, “I don’t understand how you’re here?”

“Asra and I brought her back,” Morgana says softly.  “Later, we discovered that something in the ritual wiped the memory of her from several people, including the Countess, although we still don’t know how. We performed the ritual the night of the Masquerade.  She’d died a few weeks beforehand and was taken to the Lazaret to be cremated.  And then we came up with a plan… Asra and I commandeered a rowing boat and rowed to the Lazaret barely in the nick of time.”

“There was a mass cremation happening,” Asra explains.  “Thankfully, your body was on the very edge of the pit.  I was able to pull you out before you were too badly burned.”

I shoot upright.

“Before I was…?”

Asra nods.  “That’s why you’re scarred all down your back.  We weren’t able to take them away.  Even combined, our healing magic was only able to do so much.”

“When we brought your body back,” Morgana continues, “We put a spell over it to keep it from decaying until we had what we needed to perform the ritual.  And then once we brought you back, you weren’t able to cope with me being here because of the headaches.  But you could be near Asra and it was alright, so he and I made a plan—I would stay in his gate until you were able to deal with the memories.  To spare you the headaches, I took some things away with me…”

Morgana wriggles up from her seat across Asra’s lap and picks up her pack from the floor.  She strides over to me and stands at the side of the couch, resting her bag on the arm as she rummages through.

“These are your diaries, Rina,” she says softly as she hands me four colourful silk-bound books.  “You took to keeping diaries in the lead up to our time at the palace… They won’t give you everything back, but it’s something… And I know you wrote heavily in the time you and Ilya were together.”

I stare at the books as she stacks them in my hands.

“Oh Gods,” I whisper.  My eyes well up again.  I stand up and embrace her, squeezing her tightly.

“It will give you _something_ ,” she says as she squeezes back.  “I never read them… I was tempted to while I was missing you, but they were your private thoughts… I never opened them.”

We part and I sit down again and thumb through the books, not reading, but marvelling at my own handwriting.  Secrets of my past.

I see his name written in all four books, appearing only in the last part of the earliest volume.  Ilya.  Suddenly, I realize I’m the only one in this room that doesn’t address Julian by his birth name.

“Julian,” I say softly, suddenly struggling for words, “What should I call you?”

“What’s that, Love?” He asks, not sure what I mean.

“I suddenly feel unsure how to address you,” I explain.  “Should I call you Julian or Ilya?”

 He looks at me intensely and turns towards me in his seat. He reaches out his hands to take hold of mine.

 “Say it again,” he whispers, visibly emotional.  I can feel his hands trembling.

“Ilya?” I murmur.

He lets out a shaking, forceful exhale.  “Please say it again,” he says, his eyes brimming with tears as he places his hands on either side of my face.  Portia is watching intensely, her hands clutched over her heart.  She’s silent.  Asra and Morgana exchange a look and keep quiet.

I put my hands over Julian’s.

“Ilya,” I whisper as the books fall to the cushion beside me. 

“ _Ilyushenka_ ,” he whispers.  “Say Ilyushenka…”

“Ilyushenka?”

Julian seizes me in his trembling arms and holds me flush against him, bending to bury his face into the crook of my neck.  For a moment he just holds me and sobs, and I pet his hair and kiss at his ear until he settles himself.

“Please say it again,” he whispers hoarsely.   I can hear the tears in his breaking voice.

“Ilyushenka,” I repeat, running my hand over his hair.  “Ilya, hush, Love…  Don’t cry…  Ilya… Ilyushenka….”

After a few moments, he pulls back enough to look me in the eyes.  He has a wobbly smile as we wipes his face.

“Forgive me,” he says softly, “It was just… hearing you say that name… It really brought it home for me that you and I have another chance…  This is our new beginning. You’re really here…. Sevrina…”

“I’m here, Love,” I say as I put my hands on either side of his face and look up into his beautiful, clear grey eyes.  “But I still didn’t get an answer to my question—What do you want to be called?”

He chuckles lowly and kisses my forehead.

“Will you call me Ilya when we’re alone to start with?” he whispers.  “I love to hear that name in your voice, but at the moment I can hardly keep my emotions in check… I don’t want to be constantly weeping in front of friends—I’ve done plenty of that today already.”

I laugh softly.  “Yes, Julian, I’ll say it in private.”

He kisses me and Portia averts her gaze, smiling bashfully.


	27. The Edge of Memory

After a carriage arrives to take Portia back to the palace, Asra and Morgana suggest we all retire to bed.  I gather my diaries into my arm and kiss the both of them goodnight, thanking them again, profusely, for everything they have done for Julian and I.  Asra, spying Julian’s eye patch on the kitchen counter, pockets it and raises a finger to his lips indicating his desire for Julian not to know.  I smirk and nod at him as he smiles and follows my yawning sister back to their bedroom and shuts the door.  I wonder what kind of hijinks he as planned, but shake my head, just happy that my Brother and my lover are friends once more.

Once they’re behind their bedroom door, Julian turns to me and takes me into his arms.  He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know that all of his emotions echo my own.  Immeasurable joy.  Intense gratitude.  Undying love.  Encompassing peace.

“I love you,” he whispers, barely audible.  He utters those words with a heart full of supreme tenderness as he runs his fingers through my hair adoringly.   There is no room in any part of me to doubt it.  I have never felt more loved by him than I do in this instant.

“I love you, Ilya,” I whisper.  He laughs lowly, still taken by surprise at the utterance of that name from my tongue.

“Are you tired?” he asks softly.  “I’ll pet your hair and whisper all the sweet things our future will hold for us until you fall asleep and dream of it….”

I reach up to quickly kiss him.

“I couldn’t sleep just now,” I whisper.  “I want to look at the diaries… I want to know….”

Julian smiles and caresses my cheek.

“Of course, My Little Star,” he murmurs.  “What can I do to accommodate?”

“Are you too tired to sit with me?” I ask.  “I can read some of them to you, and you can add your wonderful anecdotes.”

Julian smiles.  “Of course, Sevrina.  I would love nothing more… is there anything you need?”

I shake my head.  “No, I’m fine.  You?”

He smiles.  “Just you.  Come on, now… let’s get comfortable.”

Julian heads back over to the couch and fluffs up the throw pillows on my end, giving me something to lean back against.

“Put your feet up,” He says.  “I’ll wash the dishes and clean up in the kitchen, and then I’ll come in and rub your feet while you read.  If you need anything to drink or eat, please allow me to get it for you so that you can carry on with your diaries.”

I look up and smile at him.  “Thank you, Ilya.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead.  “I won’t be long.”

Julian walks through to the kitchen and starts to do the washing up as quietly as he can so that he doesn’t disturb Asra and Morgana, who are just across the hall.  I peek at the insides of each of the books and arrange them in order by dates.  I am eager for all of the memories these books hold, but I can’t help flipping toward the back of the first to reach the memories Julian can give me additional information on right now.  The memories of the two of us.

Much of what I see in skimming the first part of the first book chronicles my preparation, excitement and trepidation in going to the palace.  My desire to help, my anxieties about my life here with Asra and Morgana being in a state of half-upheaval.  I even state a little fear that I’m too common to fit in, that I won’t have a purpose, and that I will not build any friendships with others at the palace.

And then his name appears.  I smile to myself.  My heart starts to beat like a hummingbird in my chest and I close the book around my thumb as Julian comes back in from the kitchen after towelling his hands dry, and steps through to my bedroom quickly with a wink. He returns with a small jar of my homemade skin cream.

“Is it alright if I use a bit of this for you?” he asks, taking a seat on the far end of the sofa and pulling my feet up onto his lap.  He pulls off my slippers and smiles at me.  “You used to love it when I did this.”

I nod.  “Thank you, Ilya.”

He smiles again, still revelling in every recitation of his name in my voice.

“Oh I love it when you say my name,” he whispers, opening the jar and taking a small dollop of cream with his fingers and distributing it over his hands before taking one of my feet under his marvellous, massaging touch.

“I found you in here,” I whisper.  “When you and I met.”

Julian smiles.  “Read it to me, please,” he says.  “I want to know how you felt.”

I smile and open the book again, and read aloud in a low voice to keep quiet.

 

_13 th February_

_This evening, the three of us were installed in our living quarters at the palace.  The rooms are small but very comfortable. They have provided a lovely bed, a chest of drawers, a table with two chairs and a small wood burning stove, also a small bath with a shower stall and toilet. There is not much space to cook and no ice box so we have been told the palace will provide our meals for us._

_Asra and Morgana have their little apartment just next to mine, and I have a smaller one to myself._

_I’m told that at present there are fourteen doctors on the premises, seven biologists, four alchemists, and now Asra, Morgana and I.  I hope I have the ability within myself to help._

_After unpacking my bags, I took a moment to settle myself in and calm my anxieties.  I told Asra and Morgana to head into the palace for dinner and I would follow shortly after, once I was ready.  When I went inside, I was ushered into a large dining room.  I didn’t see the Count or Countess, but I found Asra and Morgana happily chatting with one of the doctors when I arrived. His name is Doctor Ilya Devorak. Asra has known him from before—He is the doctor that performed the amputation of the Count’s arm on the battlefield to save his life.  He must be a brilliant surgeon._

_He’s also very charming, and terribly handsome.  He kissed my hand when he met me and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him all evening.  Morgana’s teasing me about what she’s calling “the love connection” between us—she said it was electrifying—I wonder if he felt it, too… She did say that I wasn’t mistaken in feeling his eyes on me all evening, too; perhaps it’s possible he found me pretty.  All I know for sure is that I already like him very, very much._

_He wound up sitting with us at dinner and talking and entertaining.  He is witty and enthusiastic and has so many stories.  I’m looking forward to helping in the clinic with him twice weekly.  I think I could learn a lot from him._

 

Julian smiles.  “You thought I was charming?” he whispers.  “I felt like such an idiot… I can’t believe you thought I was charming.”

The following pages talk a little about settling in at the palace, and my first days working in the clinic.  Then I reach the end of the first volume, and pick up the second.

In it, I detail my magic lessons, missing my sister when she travels, and spending time getting to know Julian.  I talk in it about enjoying his company and looking forward to the time we spend together, taking walks in the palace gardens with Brundle, taking our meals together, finding any excuse to spend time together, his increasing importance to me, and Asra’s trepidation concerning him. I soon began to write about the way his presence would leave me flustered with feelings of longing, even admitting to imagining him in my bed.

“Oh my Gods,” I breathe.  “Ilya, listen…”

 

_4 th June_

_Ilya and I were meant to meet up today to walk Brundle in the palace gardens.  We walk her together most days in the afternoons or evenings, but Count Lucio has been keeping Ilya very busy and it’s been nearly a week since I’ve spent much time with him. I was so looking forward to catching up today, but when I went to meet him at his rooms, he was frustrated.  He and Asra had been suddenly summoned to the Count’s wing again, and our plans had to be postponed._

_“I’m sorry—I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said.  “Do you like chocolates?”_

_“Who doesn’t?” I laughed.  He winked at me and said he’d get me some to thank me for my patience with him.  I offered to take Brundle out for him, and told him he could come and get her from my rooms when he was finished with the Count—Even if he was to be late, I’d wait for him with her. Brundle came right to me and I took her lead.  Ilya thanked me and kissed my cheek before heading off to his appointment with the Count._

_He usually kisses my fingers before we part, not my cheek, and it surprised me… I wonder if he knows how it hurts not to be closer… Since meeting him, I’ve been struggling to squash down the thought of being in his arms when I’m alone.  I conjure up his image in my mind when I settle into bed at night, when I bathe, and when I walk to my shop. I whisper his name to the air around me as I drift into sleep. I’ve pleasured myself thinking of him more than once… My longing for his company is relentless._

_I’ve now admitted to myself that I’m wholly in love with him._

_I took Brundle and headed for the palace gardens, where we usually stroll and picnic on our free afternoons.  Brundle is old and is getting pretty slow, so she stops a lot to rest, but she likes to have a sniff about the gardens and she seemed happy to be out with me.  Morgana saw us headed for the hedge maze and ran to catch up with us.  When she got closer, she could see by my expression that I was deep in thought._

_“Rina, what’s wrong?”  She asked._

_“Nothing,” I said, deflecting.  “I’m just feeling a little mixed up.  I’ll be alright.”_

_“I’m listening, Rina,” Morgana said.  She gave me time to gather my thoughts, and we went further into the hedge maze until we reached the clearing with the fountain.  Brundle decided she wanted to stop, and plopped down with a huff, looking up at me expectantly.  Morgana and I sat down with her.  She rested her head on my knee and I scratched her behind the ears._

_I decided to just come out with it and said, “I’m in love with Ilya and I don’t know what to do.”_

_Morgana nodded her head.  “I knew you were falling for him,” she said.  “I could see in your eyes you were in deep…  You’re different with him.  He draws something out in you—You’re luminous.  Confident.  Happy.  I’ve never seen you look as beautiful as you are when he’s making you laugh.”_

_I asked her what I should do.  I said, “I don’t see any way he could reciprocate these feelings.”_

_“Why do you say that?”  She asked._

_“It couldn’t be any other way,” I said.  “Ilya’s led an intrepid life… He’s worldly.  He’s seen sights, craves adventure, and I don’t have to be told he’s gratified his sexual appetites along with way… What would he ever want with a quiet girl that does lacework, who wouldn’t be able to tell port from starboard and who’s never even seen a naked man before?  What could I ever offer him?”_

_“Love,” Morgana said._

_I started to cry.  Brundle put her paw up on my lap and huffed her nose under my hand, trying to quiet my tears.  Morgana thinks I should tell him, but I can’t risk losing this friendship...  It could ruin everything, and I couldn’t bear that._

 

“Oh, my Sweet One,” Julian whispers.  “If I’d only known, I’d have waylaid your fears… I was the other side of the coin, entirely—I thought my past would be too dark a mark for you to see past, and I didn’t even know you’d never had a lover until the first night you invited me to your bed.  I hate to think of your heart aching that way.”

“I hate to think that just because you’d seen trouble in the past you felt unworthy of love,” I reply.  “If I had known how you felt, I’m sure I would have waylaid your fears, as well.”

Julian laughs softly to himself.

“You really do believe I’m worth loving, don’t you?” He asks softly.  “You’ve always looked into this deeply flawed heart and saw the best of me… All of the foolish, weak things in me don’t matter a damn at all to you… I’m sorry, I just… It’s quite something to hear your private thoughts from the time we each were silent about our love…  I feel so humbled.”

“I love you, Ilya,” I whisper.   “There is no part of you that I don’t love.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I hush him.

“I love _all of you_ , Ilya,” I assert.  “Nothing from your past will change that.”

He smiles shyly.

“Although I know for a fact that you’ve not amassed the exhaustive list of sins that I have,” he whispers, “I hope you feel contented in knowing that I love all of you, too…  Every inch and aspect of you, body, mind, heart and soul.”

We gaze at one another, each misty-eyed, and Julian lifts the heaviness by asking for another entry of the diary with an easy smile.  I oblige.

 

_10 th June_

_Ilya stopped by before my magic lessons this morning with a parcel.  He said he was going to miss breakfast this morning but his appointments with the Count and Countess were early today and would leave him a free evening._

_“I’ll be damned if I don’t see you at dinner, tonight,” he said with a warm laugh.  “_ Nothing _will keep me away.  I’ve missed your company.  I want to hear all about how you’ve been.”_

_He gave me the box, and winked at me._

 “Oh, Gods,” Julian says, laughing softly to himself.  “I know what this is.  You’re going to want to kick me.”

“What?  Of course I won’t want to kick you!” I laugh.

“I was so in love, I didn’t know which way was up,” he says, “You’ll need to keep that in mind, Kitten.  Go ahead, now.”

Still laughing, I resume reading the entry.

 

_“Sweets for you, for being so patient while I’ve been kept by the Count,” he explained.  “I promised you chocolates.  Now, don’t you dare share those with Asra—I’ve seen how much he can eat, he will gobble them up and before you know it, they’ll be gone!”_

_I laughed and I thanked him profusely.  I told him he didn’t have to do this, that it was very kind and thoughtful.  He just smiled and hushed me._

_“No, no.  I w_ anted _to,” he said with a sweet smile.  “I wanted to treat you—You deserve to be spoiled.  I hope you enjoy them…  Now, before I get to work, I understand the Countess has arranged a dance for the next entertainment—I’m afraid I’ll need assurance now that you’ll put my name on every line of your dance card, because once I get you on the floor, I won’t let you be.”_

_I shook my head and laughed.  “No, Ilya—I don’t know how to dance…. You’d better go alone, I’d only put a damper on your fun.”_

_Ilya swooned dramatically, acting completely scandalized.  “You don’t know how to dance, Sevrina?”  He said.  “Well, at the risk of sounding like an egomaniac, I don’t mind telling you that I’m an excellent dancer.  And a decent dance teacher.  I could teach you a few, and we can sit out the ones you don’t know.  What do you say?”_

_I just smiled and told him that would be wonderful.  With that, he said we’d discuss it further at dinner, he kissed my fingers, and he was off to the palace for his meeting with the Countess. I watched him walking away to the palace until I couldn’t see him any longer, and turned back inside to my rooms.  I set the chocolates on the table and untied the ribbon.  The calligraphy on the box is beautifully hand-lettered, and in an alphabet I can’t read. That’s when Morgana arrived._

_“Asra’s going to be late with the Countess,” she explained, “But I have the deck if you want to start without him.  Oh, what’s that? Chocolate?”_

_“Ilya brought them to say he’s sorry he’s been so busy,” I explained giddily.  “I’m just taking a mischievous little peek—He said not to share with Asra because Asra will eat them all.  This must be our little secret.  Do you want one?”_

_Morgana picked up the lid and her eyes went wide as she read it, and I lifted one of the little chocolates out of the tray to hand to her._

_“Oh, Rina, I can’t,” she said with a laugh.  “Oh no, sister, these are special.  They’re for_ you. _”_

_“Nonsense, Ilya won’t mind if you have a taste, he just doesn’t want Asra to eat the whole box.”_

_She leaned over my shoulder and counted them.  “Rina, no, really… these are_ Hesperian chocolates. _They’re expensive.  They’re for you.  These can cost up to three silver pieces...”_

_I felt my mouth fall open.  “Three silver pieces just for a box of chocolates?  He shouldn’t have spent so much.”_

_Morgana laughed and shook her head, her smile going wider and wider as she explained further.  “No, Rina.  Up to three silver pieces_ each _.  There are twenty in that box.  That’s sixty silver pieces.  That box must cost a month’s wages working at the palace.  It’s a little crazy that he did that.  I’d wring Asra’s neck if he did that.  But Ilya?  Well, he doesn’t do things in half measures if he can do it dramatically and monumentally, does he?  Rina… I know you’re convinced you have nothing to offer him, but have you ever really seen the way he looks at you?  I’m sure everything else disappears… Men don’t do things like_ this _if they aren’t in love.”_

_Again, she encouraged me to speak to him about my feelings.  She is convinced that he reciprocates them, especially after this absurdly expensive gesture.  I promised her I’d think it over, but I just don’t know if I can bear to risk it._

 

“Did you seriously buy me a box of chocolates that cost sixty silver pieces?” I ask, laughing as his cheeks burn pink.

“It was closer to seventy, if memory serves me right,” he chuckles, “And yes, it was silly and crazy, but I was newly appointed as court physician and I had more money than sense.  And I was in love with you.  I wanted to spoil you.  I’d never do something so ridiculous nowadays, of course.  Unless the fancy took me.”

He winks at me, and I laugh.

“We have a getaway sloop to save for, Love,” I murmur, “And I’ll be needing a plumed captain’s hat…”

He gives me a low, wicked laugh and climbs up to my end of the couch to reach me.  I laugh into his kisses and when we part, he lays down over me, long body between my legs, his head resting on my breast.

“I want to make love to you soon,” he whispers.  “I can’t wait to see you naked in your bed again.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” I suggest.  “Should I read another?”

“Mmm.  Yes, please,” he says lazily, pressing kisses against my breastbone.   

 

_23 rd June_

_Tonight was incredible.  For all of the tension building while Ilya taught me to dance, I was very nervous, but he was so warm and inviting… What a thrill for him to hold me close to him and guide me._

_Ilya took my dance card from me right away and filled every line with his name, just like he teased he would.  He and I barely stepped away from the music.  He wasn’t joking when he said he’s an excellent dancer—The lessons didn’t fully exhibit the absolute blitheness of his movement.  It was easy—and blissful—to dance with him._

_He held me near him in closed position, his hand at the small of my back.  He spoke to me all through the night, encouraging me not to count my steps, but to follow his lead instead, and to be heard over the music as we danced, he leaned in close to me and spoke into my ear.  My face was in the crook of his neck, I could smell the scent of his hair and skin.  It was heavenly._

_Morgana and Asra left the dance early because they are walking to the shop early in the morning, but Morgana and the Countess both told me that they’d watched us dancing, and said we looked wonderful together.  Morgana told me that Ilya “is utterly besotted” and told me tonight would be a good time to let him know how I feel.  And I tried, but I faltered._

_When Ilya walked me back to my room, it seemed neither of us wanted to part.  He told me I was radiant, which I deflected stupidly.  He told me that he hadn’t enjoyed himself so much since he was in Galdabra, kicking up mischief with pirates.  I took his hand, but I couldn’t will the words out of my throat.  We must have stood outside of my door for thirty minutes before we actually said goodnight.  He kissed my cheek and thanked me for being a wonderful dancing partner, and then he kissed my fingers as he always does before parting._

_I’ve dressed for bed now, and somehow I can’t stop smiling.  I’m still reeling._

_Oh, Gods, Ilya, my heart is tethered to your side.  I’ll dream of you tonight._

 

Julian asks for another entry just by saying _More_ , like a child desperate for more of a bedtime story.  I can feel him laugh lowly in his chest.

“This is so exciting,” he explains, “I can feel all the tension all over again, but hearing your thoughts from this time is just thrilling me.  Gods… And I know it won’t be long now until you finally slip up and kiss me… Please, more…”

I kiss the top of his head and laugh softly before I carry on reading.  The following two entries are short, and similar.  Two confrontations with Asra about Julian.  The first, Asra came to me alone and told me that he didn’t like me being so close to him, that he didn’t trust him and was very concerned for my safety.  When I was adamant that Julian wouldn’t hurt me, Asra started in about the card readings and I turned and shouted at him to stop, and stormed out, which was unlike me.  The second, Morgana was there and when Asra started to talk about Julian, I started to cry and Morgana told Asra to stop and that I was in love with him.  The tension must have been awful.

And then I turn the page.

 

_7 th July_

_Ilya and I picnicked in the gardens today.  He met me after his morning appointment with the Count.  I’d prepared a lunch and I had bought a bottle of honey mead at the market a week ago as a surprise for him.  He likes a good drink, and he mentioned he hasn’t had one in a while.  After his extravagant gift of those expensive chocolates, I bought the best I could afford… It was only a small bottle because of having to carry it back over such a distance with other supplies, but it would give us a little taste, and it made him smile._

_We settled in the gardens near the fountain—there’s a great willow tree there that provided some lovely shade in the high sun.  I laid out a blanket and we settled in at the foot of the tree.  We ate and Ilya was delighted with the mead.  We drank a health to our friendship and finished our meal, talking and laughing comfortably in each other’s company._

_Ilya teased that it was a good thing there wasn’t enough mead to get him drunk, or he’d have taken a plunge in the fountain—I couldn’t withhold a laugh at the thought, and so he stood up and started to open his shirt, saying it was a hot day, maybe he’d do it anyway!  I grabbed his wrist and begged him not to, said we’d get in trouble with the guards, but I couldn’t stop laughing.  He wriggled away and headed for the fountain and I scrambled to get to my feet in time to stop him.  When I caught him, I pushed him back from the fountain harder than I realized and the two of us went tumbling to the ground.  Ilya landed on his back, laughing, and I landed on his chest._

_“I can’t take you anywhere!” I squealed, the two of us laughing, and then that tension returned, but a hundredfold.  I apologized for pushing him so hard and asked if he was alright, and he said yes, and for a long moment we stared at each other.  My face was only inches from his.  He brushed my hair back.  I kissed him._

_I couldn’t hold back.  I kissed him as if every ounce of my hunger surfaced in one embrace.  I ran my fingers through his hair, his hand went to the nape of my neck, drawing me deeper, and we kissed and kissed until I panicked and pulled away.  I stood up and tried to rush away, my eyes were brimming with tears, but my foot caught in my skirts and Ilya had gotten to his feet and caught my wrist.  He whispered my name.  I turned round to look at him.  His shirt was open and askew and he was flushed from cheeks to chest… His eyes were pleading.  He bit his lip._

_“Sevrina, please,” he whispered.  His breath was as heavy as mine.  He tugged me back gently and I stepped back toward him.  He pressed my captured hand over his heart and he drew me close and looked into my eyes as he caressed my cheek.  I was entranced, my gaze kept going between his eyes and his mouth, silently willing him to kiss me again if I hadn’t dreamed it.  My heart was pounding, and I could feel that his was, too.  The tears broke down my cheeks and I averted my gaze to the ground.  He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.  He leaned in slowly and pressed a dozen soft kisses to my cheeks, over the tracks of my tears.  “Please don’t cry.  I promise I’ll make it better,” he whispered, and then he met my mouth with his.  He kissed me softly at first, and then deeper, his fingers in my hair, his lips parting, little aching sounds in the back of his throat.  When we parted, tears were still streaming down my cheeks, and he brushed them away with his thumbs._

_Ilya is not one to be at a loss for words, and he’s hardly one to shy away from dramatic soliloquy, but he just looked at me intensely, eyes glossy with emotion, and said, “I love you, Sevrina.  I should have told you ages ago.”_

_I just sighed, “Oh, Gods, Ilya… I’ll love you forever,” and fell into his embrace._

_We stayed in the gardens together until nightfall.  He held me in his arms as we leaned against the tree, we packed our things up and strolled arm-in-arm through the foliage and picking oranges from the trees rather than go to dinner in the palace.  We kept stopping to kiss and profess love. When we got to my rooms, I held fast to his hands and asked him to stay the night with me.  He came inside and we went to sit on the bed, and we kissed again and again.  He allowed me to pull his shirt over his head, and then he stilled my hands.  I asked what was wrong._

_“Believe me, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he laughed.  “I do more than anything.  But that’s not all I’m after with you… I don’t want you to have any reason to doubt that.  Too many times in the past I’ve not been a gentleman—I want to be a gentleman for you.  You’re the real thing.  I want to be the real thing, too…”_

_I kissed him and sat beside him.  I told him this was probably wise because Asra and Morgana share a wall with my bedroom and that if I could hear it when they made love, they’d most certainly hear us.  We agreed to wait, but I asked Ilya to still stay with me._

_He is lying next to me, stroking my cheek as I write this entry and smiling._

_He loves me, oh my Ilya, I’ll never..._  

 

I stop, unable to contain my emotion enough to read the heart-wrenching sentence that follows.  Julian raises his head to look at me when I stop, and sees tears welling in my eyes.

“What is it?”  He asks softly.  “What does it say?”

I suck in a breath and let it out again, trying to settle myself before I tell him, “It says, _Oh, my Ilya, I’ll never forget today_.”

The tears break down my cheek.

“Hush, my Sweet Love,” he whispers, sitting up and pulling me into his arms.  “Don’t fret, my Little Mouse…”

“Ilya, I feel so guilty,” I heave, burying my face in the crook of his neck.  “I can’t remember our first kiss… I ought to have never forgotten it.”

“Oh don’t be preposterous,” he whispers.  “You have done nothing wrong.  I would much rather have you here with me, never to remember those kisses again, than to have lost you… I will give you many, many more kisses, many more beautiful days to remember.”

I cling to him quietly until my crying subsides.  He cradles me in his arms, running his long, tender fingers through my hair.

“Today has been good, but it’s been a lot, hasn’t it?” he whispers.  “Would you be willing to put the diaries aside and get some sleep?  I promise we will read them tomorrow.”

I nod weakly.

“Good,” he whispers.  “Come here, now, up into my arms…”

I stand up with him and he sweeps me up from the floor and carries me around the back of the couch and through my bedroom door.  He sets me down on the mattress and takes the diaries from me, setting them on the bedside table, and then he excuses himself to put out the oil lamps in the sitting room.  When he returns, he shuts the door behind him and comes to kiss the top of my head.

“Where do you keep your night clothes?” he asks with a wink.  “I remember just about everything else, but you didn’t have much cause to wear them back then, you see…”

I laugh softly and point to my chest of drawers.  “Top left.”

Julian goes to the drawer and pulls out one of my linen night dresses and unfurls it.  I stand and take off my dress, and he trades me with a loving wink, and places my dress into my washing basket as I pull the night dress over my head.

“You don’t mind if I sleep in my skin, do you?” he asks.

“I never do,” I reply, making him chuckle.  I pull back the blankets while he undresses, and climb into my half of the bed.  The bed that is once again our bed.  A moment later, he slips in beside me, and reaches over onto the bedside table to put out the lamp.

He pulls me into his arms and I lay with my head on his chest.  He knows every inch of me even in the dark, and lets his fingers lightly brush my ear and trace my jawline. 

“I can’t get over the fact that I’m lying in your bed again,” he whispers.  “Oh, my Heavens, it feels like home.”

“It is home,” I reply.  “You are going to live here, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to?” he asks.  “I had thought maybe you’d want to wait…. A lot has happened for you the past few weeks, and I’m happy to be patient.”

“No, I want you here,” I say, craning my neck to nuzzle into his sideburns.  “It feels right to me.  Please say you’ll come to live here?”

I can feel the smile on his face when he turns to kiss my forehead.

“Of course, Sevrina.”

“That is, of course, if you want to, Ilya… do you want to?”

“Oh, yes, my Little Star,” he laughs lowly, “There is nothing I want more than to share a home with you and begin our life together.”

I kiss him softly and then cuddle up tight to him.

“What does Ilyushenka mean?” I ask softly. 

He chuckles.  “You know how Portia calls me _Ilyushka_ when she picks on me or scolds me?  That’s like a teasing thing to do to someone’s name in Nevivonian… I don’t know where you learned it—Perhaps the Countess, since she speaks so many languages—But back at the palace, you started to call me _Ilyushenka._   That’s more of an _Ilya-My-Sweet_ , tender kind of pet-version of my name.  Something a wife or lover would say.”

I laugh softly.  “I love you, Ilyushenka.”

He sighs and smiles.  “Oh, Kitten… What happiness you bring to this silly fool… And the real wonder is only just begun.  Get some sleep now, my Sweet One…”

 

The next morning I fry up some eggy bread for us.  Asra and Morgana have not gotten out of bed yet, and their bedroom door is still closed, so Julian and I are sure to keep quiet as we talk about him coming to live with me. 

“I haven’t got much in the way of belongings,” he says, “I suppose that’s to be expected after being on the run for so long.  I could easily get everything I own into one pack, and I can be moved in whenever you’re ready.”

I smile mischievously.  “We ought to take a walk to Mazelinka’s today and pick up your things.  I know you don’t have much, but I want to be there for her to thank me for taking you off her hands.”

Julian laughs as he swallows the last of his breakfast, and stands up to lean over the table and kiss me.  He takes our empty plates to the sink and washes them, setting them in a rack to dry, and turns around to me as he dries his hands with a towel.

“Shall we get back to your diaries for now?” He suggests softly, waggling his eyebrows as the wicked twinkle in his eye ignites.   “I’m dying to know what you wrote about our first night together in your room…”

I smile and rise from my seat at the table, and then I take his hand and tug him over to the couch.

“Sit down,” I say softly, still mindful of the volume of my voice.  “I’ll get the diaries.”

I go into our bedroom and retrieve the books from the night stand, and return to the sitting room where my beloved has made himself comfortable on the couch.  When he sees me return, he pats his thigh.

“Sit here,” he says, pulling me into his lap.  “Let me kiss your cheek and pet your hair while you read.”

I settle into his arms and kiss him softly.  When our lips part, he nuzzles my nose with his dreamily.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers.

“I love you, Ilyushenka,” I reply, and then he gives me another quick peck, and we turn our attention to the books in my lap.

I thumb through the diary to where we left off, and he turns his attention to nuzzling into my hair.

 

_10 th July_

_Ilya sneaked out of my rooms before sun-up this morning to avoid discovery.  He said he would see me at the breakfast banquet in the palace in a few hours.  He kissed me and told me he loves me, then said I should get a little more sleep before starting the day._

_I pulled him back for one last embrace and kissed him deeply… I told him I would dream of him._

_“If you’re kissing me like that, I’ve no doubt you will,” he whispered.  “Get a little rest.  I’ll see you at breakfast, and then I’ll see you at dinner after your lessons…  Do you fancy another garden walk tonight after the meal?”_

_I agreed—it would be private enough for us to steal kisses and walk hand-in-hand._

_“I’ll be discreet until you speak to Asra,” he whispered.  “I promise I will...  And then I will find the tallest point in Vesuvia and scream from it how much I love you.”_

_I didn’t want him to go, but until I can find a way to tell Asra, it needs to be this way._

_I watched from my door as he went down the way to his rooms, and sighed to myself as he disappeared into the darkness.  I went and lay in my bed and I could smell him still in the sheets… I imagined him and pleasured myself, and then I went back to sleep, nuzzling into the pillow he slept on, breathing in the ghost of his scent he’d left behind._

_The Count’s cockatoo woke me later, squawking outside of my window.  I laughed happily into my pillow, realizing with the lingering scent of him in my sheets that I wasn’t dreaming.  I got out of bed and had a quick wash in my shower and then I dressed and styled my hair so that I’d look beautiful for Ilya at breakfast. Then Morgana knocked at my door._

_When I answered, she was alone._

_“Breakfast?” She asked._

_“Just finishing getting ready for the day,” I said.  “Where’s Asra?”_

_“Oh, he was summoned to the Count again, he wants another Tarot reading.  He said he’d see us there once he was finished.”_

_I gathered my bag and Morgana and I began the walk to the palace._

_“We missed you at dinner last night,” she said.  “Were you with Ilya?  I noticed he wasn’t there, either.”_

_I couldn’t hold back a smile.  Morgana grabbed my arm and halted our walk._

_“Did you finally tell him?” She asked excitedly._

_I told her everything about how it happened._

_“We walked in the gardens until late,” I said. “We had a little bread left over from the picnic and ate oranges from the trees... He’s happy to keep quiet about it until I can tell Asra, but I don’t want to keep quiet about it.  I need to find a way to tell him.”_

_“I’ll try and keep softening him up,” she said. And then she hugged me.  “And I will support you when you tell him.  Rina, I’m happy for you.  And a_ doctor _, for heaven sakes!  You’ll be the envy of all the women in Vesuvia on his arm.”_

_Laughing, we made our way into the banquet and I scanned the room for Ilya.  Neither he or Asra were there yet, so Morgana took the opportunity to ask me more._

_“How did he kiss you?”  “What did he say?”  “Did he say it first or did you?”_

_I told her everything in low tones about the confessions and the way he held me, the way he caressed my cheek and throat as I sat in his arms, the way he looked at me, the way he sat and played with my hands as we talked, interlacing his fingers with mine, comparing the size of our hands, the way he blushed, how he told me that although my beauty caught his attention, it was my kindness, my caring, my creativity, my attentiveness, my sincerity and my laughter that made him fall in love with me.  She was all smiles._

_We started to eat and drink when Ilya arrived.  He winked at me as he entered the dining room, and he plated some food casually, aware I was with Morgana and not wanting to seem too eager.  He brought his plate and coffee over to our table and asked to join us._

_“Please do,” I said._

_Ilya took a seat and I could see Morgana’s eyes dancing with mischief.  She was ready to tease him and poor Ilya had no idea._

_“How are you ladies this morning?” he asked, ready to make conversation._

_“I’m very well,” she answered, “But I think Sevrina’s a little ill.  Oh, she’s putting on a brave face, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’s feeling unwell.”_

_Ilya looked at me, concern in his eyes._

_“What’s the matter?” he asked_

_I just shake my head.  “Ilya, I’m fine,” I said, “Truly.”_

_“No, no,” Morgana says insistently.  “She was adamant to me just an hour ago that she’s having palpitations and her breathing is irregular.”_

_“Sevrina, is that true?” He asked._

_“Morgana, what—?”_

_“Do you think you should examine her, Ilya?” Morgana said, her pretend worry sounding quite convincing, “She might be feverish…. Do you think.… Maybe a dip in the fountain might make her feel better?”_

_Realization poured over Ilya’s face and his eye darted between Morgana and I.  Morgana laughed heartily and I just shook my head._

_“She knows, doesn’t she?” Ilya said._

_“Oh, I know, alright,” Morgana said.  “After listening to her agonize over telling you for the last several weeks, you had better believe I noticed the difference this morning.”_

_Ilya looked at me almost apologetically and asked, “She knows I slept in your room?”_

_“What, Rina?!”_

_My head fell into my hands, but we all started to laugh.  When I raised my head, Morgana had her arms folded across her chest and was staring me down._

_“What a detail to omit, eh?” She teased._

_“It wasn’t like that,” I said.  “We just didn’t want to part._

_Morgana turned her incredulous stare to Ilya and said, “So your trousers stayed on all night?"_

_Ilya flushed and tried to stammer out a reply.  Morgana was clearly enjoying this._

_“Morgana, I assure you it was entirely innocent,” he finally managed.  “I held her.  We slept.”_

_“Oh, well, then,” Morgana said, nodding her head and turning her attention to her breakfast.  “That’s alright.  Let me know when something_ good _happens, then.”_

_I started laughing and Ilya just sat there looking bewildered for a long moment before he realized Morgana was only teasing._

_“We’d better change the subject,” she said.  “Asra’s just come in.  I’ll behave.  How’s the coffee?”_

Julian chuckles.  “She gave me a hell of a fright, I’ll admit.  I was really concerned about their approval.  I knew how much you hated the tension between Asra and I…  I’m glad she was on our side.”

As I continue to read, Ilya whispers little anecdotes about the time between our love confession and the night we became lovers as I read to him a few entries in my diary.  I talk in it of the building tension, and of my insecurities of him finding out he would be my first, and advice from Morgana about going to bed with him.  I didn’t feel exciting enough for him.

“Oh, Kitten, you were plenty exciting,” he whispers.  “You have always been exciting… I am the luckiest idiot in the world to be yours…”

I savour the contact as he nestles his face into my hair, kissing my ear, and whispering how the tension that lead up to the night we first spent in my bedroom was the most delicious torture he’d ever experienced.  I suddenly feel upset creeping into my chest, and go quiet.

“Are you alright, Sevrina?” he asks when he feels me stiffen.

“I should remember,” I whisper, barely able to make a sound at all.  “I should remember it, and I can’t…. It’s killing me…”

When he hears the tears in my voice, he draws me close and cradles my head as I hide my face in the crook of his neck.  He pets my hair and rocks me slightly, whispering reassurances over the hollow of my cheek. 

“It’s an insult to you,” I whimper.  “I should remember…”

“Shush, now, my Little Rabbit,” he says.  “Stop that, please… I’m not insulted, Love, I swear… Neither is Asra.  Or Morgana.  They both love you so very much, and I love you most of all…. Oh, Sevrina, your heart remembered me, now, didn’t it?  And soon your lips did, too.  Your feet remembered the dancing I taught you, your body knew how to follow.  Oh, Sevrina, you remember…. You remember, it’s in you still, I _know_ it is… I see it in your eyes….”

I still myself in his arms and he kisses my cheeks as he strokes my hair.

“I want to remember,” I whisper.  “It hurts….”

“Oh, Sevrina,” he murmurs.  “I understand… I know, Darling.  I understand first-hand how much it hurts not to know…. But I will give you many more memories to hold on to, many more laughs, many more dances, many more romantic nights… Besides, there are hundreds of things we didn’t get to do then… We didn’t get to travel.  You’ve never sailed.  I’ve never gotten to pamper you in the bath.  I’ve not taught you Nevivonian.  And if it’s any additional comfort, my Dearest, I have plenty of ideas for what we can get into in the privacy of our bedroom.  Don’t fret, my Sweet One, you break my heart when you believe that it’s ended when it’s only just begun…”

I suddenly feel another hand on my shoulder and lift my head.  It’s Morgana.  I wipe my tears from my cheeks and she takes my hand.

“Are you alright, Rina?” she asks.

“I just feel so guilty,” I whisper, gesturing to my diaries, “I can’t remember any of this…. It’s like I’m just reading stories…”

Morgana kisses my forehead and sits beside us.

“We’re not hurt by your memory loss, Rina,” she says.  “We’re just glad to get a second chance with you.  We’re happy you’re here, memories or no memories and that will never change.”

“Especially when there are so many more memories to be made,” Julian says softly, tweaking my nose and making me smile in spite of myself.

“You told Asra your heart remembered Ilya,” Morgana says.  “I know your heart remembers me, too.  You can’t conjure the image of the events, or the words said, but it’s in you.  I know it is.  Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been the same person when we brought you back.  And you are the same.  The same sweet temperament, the same gentle teasing, the same creative mind, the same peaceful aura.  We love you.  You’re perfect as you are, just here in our lives again.  There is nothing we would change about you except to have you believe that.”

“Well said, Morgana,” Julian says, smiling sweetly at me.  “In fact, I—”

Julian is cut off by the sudden appearance of Asra, who has leaped into the room dramatically, having tied a blanket around his shoulders like a cloak.  He is wearing Julian’s eye patch and is sporting an exaggerated, smarmy grin on his face as he arches his eyebrow.

“Fear not!” He shouts, doing his best impression of Julian, “It is I, Doctor Devorak!  I am here to declare that it has been an entire twenty minutes since I’ve thrown myself into potentially fatal danger, and so, Sevrina, my Little Platypus, my Little Inchworm, my Sun, my Moon, My Universe, I simply must proclaim my undying passion for you by throwing myself into shark infested waters immediately!”

All of us are laughing, except for Julian, although there’s an amused smirk on his face.  Asra runs over and lifts me from Julian’s lap and spins me around.

“Oh Sevrina, my Precious Oyster Pearl, have I ever told you about the time I single-handedly saved a Molovan brothel from fire?  There I was, trousers around my ankles, and—”

“That’s enough, Asra,” Morgana squeals, “You’re being merciless!”

The three of us are laughing as Asra sets me down on the floor again.  Julian is chuckling lowly, eyeing Asra with flagrant scrutiny.

“You’ll pay for that, you little shit,” he says, now fully laughing, rising from his seat and wagging his finger at Asra as he passes him to go to the kitchen.  “You watch your back…  You’ll pay dearly, now…”

Asra follows through to the kitchen, cackling after Julian, not yet letting up on the impression.  I take my seat on the couch with Morgana and get the last of my giggles out of my system.

“I’m glad they’re friends again,” I laugh.  “I hated hearing them be bitter about each other.”

“Well, I think a prank war has been set off, now, Sevrina,” Morgana laughs, “At least, if their old friendship is anything to go by! You’d best prepare for a whole different kind of _insufferable_.”

We let our laughter subside and she squeezes my hand.

“Are you feeling a little better?” She asks.

I nod.  “Am I really like I was then?” I ask.  “My demeanour hasn’t changed?”

“You’re exactly the same,” she assures me with a smile.  “Asra’s told me you even still do lacework and embroidery, although he says you never wear your things anymore because of the scars… But Asra couldn’t have taught you that because he doesn’t know how.  You have the memory ingrained in you.  You’re really you, Sevrina.”

“What about Julian?” I ask.  “Is he the same as he was?”

Morgana smiles, giving my hand another reassuring squeeze.  “I watched him comforting you for a few moments before I approached.  He saw me in the doorway and knew I was there.  In the past, his softness and tenderness was very private—he would have been embarrassed at an intimate moment like that being spied by anyone, even someone he trusted.  But he just kept rocking you, assuring you, kissing you and holding you.  That much about him is new.  The heartache over the last few years must have made it possible for him to be unafraid to display that kind of nurturing and gentleness in front of others.  That isn’t to say he was crass or disrespectful in the past, just that he would have deflected to humour and storytelling.  He was afraid to be vulnerable, so it was very private—it was only to you that he ever showed that part of himself.  Aside from that, he is very much the same.” 

Smiling, I sink back into the couch and lean my head on her shoulder.

“This is going to sound crazy,” I say, “But even though I don’t remember the past, I think I missed your presence in this house all this time.  I was always feeling like something was missing, I was sad all the time, and unbearably lonely.  I think more than wanting the memories, I wanted you and I wanted him—My family and the man I love.”

Morgana leans back against me and squeezes my hand.

“Your heart remembers,” She says.  “I’m so glad that your heart remembers…. When Asra told me you said that about Ilya, it ignited a real hope in me that your heart would remember me, too…. You know, the night you asked Asra who Ilya was to him, I was there, out of sight of the pool, and I was in tears the rest of the night, so frustrated for you both.  Asra wanted him away from you because he still attached blame for what happened to Ilya… But I wanted nothing more than for you two to remember… I just knew if you did it would all fall back into place.”


	28. Finding Quiet Peace

“Sevrina,” Julian sighs desperately.

“Shh,” I whisper with a laugh.  “They’re still asleep over there.  Be as quiet as you can…”

Early dawn light dapples in through the window through the gap in the not-quite-closed curtains.  The city is still asleep, but Julian and I are wide awake, and thoroughly entangled in the low light.

He’s sitting up and leaning back against the bedframe and I’m sitting astride his hips, kissing him wildly.  His cheeks are flushed and his hands are wandering my body restlessly as I stroke his rigid erection.  I have already taken him to the verge of spending once, and then pulled back my efforts to ease him back from it.  He’s pleading, but he’s enjoying the slow, aching torment of it.

“Please, can I see you yet?” He begs.  “Please take off your night dress, Sevrina, I’ll be good…”

I’ve been teasing him long enough, it would seem.  The look in his eye is pleading, and besides that, I’m burning to be touched…

“Do you promise to be quiet?” I whisper with a smile.

“Gods, yes,” he murmurs.  “I’ll do anything if you’d take off your dress…”

I pull my night dress over my head and he pulls me up onto my knees to kiss and nuzzle my breasts, and lets out a moan.  I pull back from him, laughing lowly.

“Quiet, Ilya,” I laugh softly, “We’ll wake them!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, “Please, I… I’ll be good….”

“If you’re moaning now, what are you going to do when you spend?” I tease laughingly.

“You can cover my mouth,” he suggests with a chuckle. 

I kiss him and place my hand around him again, resuming my steady stroking motion.  He stifles a moan into my mouth and reaches between us to touch me between my legs.

“Ooh,” I breathe, making him laugh lowly.

“You’re so slick,” he whispers, sliding his finger inside.  “Gods, I want you… Please, Sevrina… I’ll be quiet… I’ll be good…”

“Oh, I can’t say no to you,” I heave, making him laugh softly.  “You beg so sweetly, it makes me want to give you everything you want…  You’re impossible to resist…”

I pull up from his hand and his breath hitches when I shift my hips forward and slide down onto his shaft, enveloping him.  True to his word, and with a mighty effort, he keeps quiet, muffling his soft sounds into the side of my neck.

“ _O Bogi, vnutri tak khorosho_ ,” he breathes into my hair, clinging tight to my hips and pressing up into me.  “Gods, you’re so soft… warm…”

I roll my hips slowly and he heaves heavy exhales into my hair as he kisses hotly down my throat.

“Ilya,” I whisper, “Ooh, fuck…”

His breath catches.

“Ooh, Sevrina!” He laughs in surprise, “I can’t believe you said that! I’ve never heard you swear before…”

We’re both laughing in earnest now, trying in vain to keep quiet as I keep rolling my hips into him.

“Do it again,” he teases, nipping lightly at my neck.  “Tell me how fucking good it feels….”

I stop moving because I’m laughing so hard and trying to stay quiet.  Julian’s ribs are shaking with laughter and he reaches up to kiss me, laughing against my lips, as he presses is hips upward.

“Don’t stop, Darling,” he whispers, “I want to make you swear again…”

I settle my laughter and begin to move my hips again.

“Whisper it in my ear,” he says lowly, “It’s so arousing… Say it again, please, Sevrina…”

“I feel silly,” I whisper, still supressing a laugh.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, kissing hotly at my throat again.  “It’s so salacious…  It’s exciting me…  Ooh, _please_ say it again, Sevrina, just whisper it to me….”

I kiss him and work my hips up and down him until little soft murmurs of pleasure begin to bubble up into my mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.  “I can’t get enough of you…”

I press my mouth to the place just below his ear.  “Tell me how fucking bad you want me.”

He growls out a low laugh and takes hold of one of my breasts while he pulls me into a kiss.

“Oh, that just sounds s _o naughty_ ,” he chuckles, “Oh, my Little Temptress, I want you so badly it’s like I can’t get deep enough inside of you… Say it again…”

I laugh softly into his hair and he purrs into my ear as his hands grab greedily at my hips.

“Please, it’s so _bad_ when you say it,” he half-laughs.

“Is that why you’re so fucking hard?” I whisper seductively, trying not to giggle.

“Oh, my Sweet Love,” he whispers, half laughing.  “Your wicked side is driving me mad….”

“Are you going to spend?” I whisper.

“Not until you do,” he says laughingly.  “I want you to say how fucking good it feels…”

We keep laughing between greedy, hot kisses as I increase the pace of my hips.  My fingers rake through the curls at the nape of his neck, and his eyes are heavy-lidded with hunger.  He mutters softly, begging me for my pleasure.

“I want to take you to the peak,” he murmurs, “I want you to satisfy…”

“Ilya,” I whisper. “Tell me how it feels.”

He’s panting for breath now, and grunts lowly before he replies.

“ _Eto ray_ ,” he whispers.  “ _O, eto ray_ ….  It’s heaven…”

He pulls my mouth down to his and kisses me deeply, his hands greedy for me, wandering my figure restlessly.  I start to whimper into his mouth as my pleasure builds, and he pulls back to watch my face.

“ _Da, Sevrina, eto to, chto ya khochu_ ,” he whispers, “Give it to me, Love…”

I strangle the sound that comes out of me as best I can as the magic flickers in the air around us.  He kisses my throat and grips tightly at my hips until I heave against him, trembling and breathless as my hips stutter in his lap, and I let go soft, wordless murmurs of pleasure in his ear.

“Ilya,” I breathe, “Ooh, Ilya…”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely, “Gods, I love you so….”

I kiss him again and then after a moment I’m able to steady my rhythm once more, and begin to grind my hips into his.  He groans hungrily and I lean down to whisper in his ear.

“Keep quiet as you can, Love,” I breathe, “I’ll get you there…”

“You’re not far now,” he whispers, “I won’t last much longer…”

“I want you to spend for me,” I sigh, riding him harder, “Whisper… Tell me how fucking good it feels inside me…”

“Better than anything,” he heaves, “So warm… Sevrina…”

“Are you close?”

“Yes…”

“Spend for me, Ilya,” I whisper, kissing his ear, “Give it to me…”

“Sevrina…”

He throws his head back and sighs, his eyes creasing tightly shut, and shudders as he spends.  He tries so hard to hold in the sounds of his pleasure, but he lets one slip through when our mouths meet.  He puts his hands on my hips to urge my rhythm to slow, and he sighs as I draw back, breathless, and gives me a weary smile as he chuckles.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, “Oh, Kitten, that was so good…”

“Will you be able to sleep now, Ilyushenka?” I whisper, making him muffle his laughter into my neck.

“Yes, Darling, I think I will,” he replies, and kisses me.

 

In the afternoon, Julian and I walk arm in arm into the market.  I’ve told him I want him to choose some fabric from the textile stalls for me to make him some clothes with.  We choose a length of smooth, white fabric for shirts and a length of heavier dark fabric for trousers, embroidery floss, and some buttons.

With everything loaded into my pack, Julian hoists it onto his back and winks at me.

“What’s next, Darling?” He says sweetly.

“I want to get you something to wear for the wedding,” I reply, “I won’t have the time to make you an entire outfit in the next few days, but I can manage a shirt if I start tonight—Let’s buy you a new pair of trousers and a waistcoat… Some sleeping clothes, too.  Then we can worry about food.”

He smiles.  “I’ll need to look handsome enough to be on your arm,” he says with a wink.  “Lead the way.”

I take him to a stall of men’s clothing and he starts to look through waistcoats excitedly.  It reminds me of when he was looking through costumes for the masquerade.  Occasionally, he pulls out a waistcoat and holds it up to himself for inspection.

“I think something not too eye-catching,” he says, “It’s their day, after all, I want attention to be on them.  What are you planning on wearing?”

“I have a lot of dresses in my armoire,” I explain.  “I’ve a mauve-pink one I was thinking of wearing with embroidered flowers around the neckline and up the shoulders—It’s one of my nicer dresses, and I want to dress for the occasion.”

“I wish there was something here to compliment it,” he says, “But I don’t see anything mauve…”

He holds up a few waistcoats for examination in different colours.  Vibrant cobalt he dismisses as being too flashy, fawn as too muddy.  He sneers at an ochre waistcoat for being too plain to befit the occasion, and then asks my opinion on a sage greet brocade waistcoat, holding it up to himself for inspection.  The colour is what he’s looking for—Elegant without being distracting, muted without being too drab, and the floral pattern in the weave of the fabric makes it very pleasing to the eye.

“That’s beautiful,” I say with a delighted smile, “And the colour is very handsome with your hair.  What do you think?”

“I think it will be perfect so long as it fits,” he laughs.  “I’ll ask to try it on.”

He goes to the back of the stall to speak to the seamstress, and I follow with our fabric haul.  Julian sloughs off his coat and slips his long arms through it, buttoning the front and smoothing it down is chest.  The seamstress steps around back and adjusts the selvage cinch, and smooths it down his back.  It’s a handsome fit.

“We have a winner,” Julian says delightedly, and turns to the seamstress.  “I’d like to buy this, please, if you could hold it for me while I find a pair of trousers?”

“And a cravat to match the waistcoat, please,” I chime in.

She nods happily and directs him to a rack at the back for tall men.  With her help, it doesn’t take him long to find a fine pair of black trousers in the right fit, and then he asks for sleeping clothes. A moment later and he tucks our purchases neatly into the pack on top of the fabric, and we move back into the market traffic to head to the food stalls.

As we look over some produce, Julian eyeballs the onions.

“I could make caramel apples,” he muses aloud, “And make one with an onion instead for Asra…”

“I don’t want involvement in this prank war,” I laugh, “That is entirely between you and Asra.  But I’ll tell you something—If you do that, it will backfire on you.  He will eat anything, so he will definitely eat a caramel onion.  He’d eat the entire thing making severe eye contact with you just to let you know what a mistake you made.”

Julian laughs and takes my arm, dipping down for a kiss on the cheek.  When we have what we need, we leave the market and head home, and once we’re away from the crowd, Julian pulls me into an alcove and kisses me.

“I’m still dreaming about our early morning romp,” he says with a chuckle.  “You teased me to the end of my wits… And I’ve never laughed so much when I’ve been in such a position… It was so much fun…”

He bends to kiss me again and we share a brief giggle.

“You know, you and I used to play little games together,” he whispers, “And I’ve got an appetite for them… Do you think we could play again sometime soon?”

“What kind of games?” I say softly, kissing him again and tugging him back into the street to head home.

“Do you remember the vines in the Hanged Man’s realm?” He asks. 

I laugh softly.   “Yes.”

“Games like that…”

“Ilya, you know I’ll try anything to make you happy,” I say sweetly.  He beams.

“We’ll talk about it one night we have then house to ourselves,” he says lowly, his darling mischief twinkling in his eyes as he unlocks our back door.  “You used to enjoy it… I hope you still will.”

When we arrive into the flat upstairs, it’s dark inside.  Asra and Morgana must still be out for the day, getting things ready to begin moving to the new house.  Julian rummages through drawers in the kitchen as I set our pack of fabric and clothes on the couch in the living room.

“Why can’t I ever find a match in here?” He laughs. 

“There’s not much need if you have magic,” I say with a laugh as I sort out the shopping.  I stop and focus a second on the lamp and light it with my magic and smile.

“Voila,” he says with a chuckle. “Just like that.” 

“I could teach you if you like,” I suggest, bringing our food shopping into the kitchen.  “We haven’t tried any magic since getting home.  Do you want to have a try?”

He looks dubiously at the lamp, and then at me.

“Yes,” he says.  “I’d like to try.”

I smile at him and tell him to take a seat at the kitchen table.  When I’ve finished putting things away, I extinguish the lamp and set it on the table in front of him.

“Do you remember in The Star’s realm, when we made the ball of light?” I ask.

“I remember,” he replies.

“We held our hands up and sent our magic to the space between them,” I say, “And I told you to focus on the thought of light.  Do it again, here, but inside the glass shade.”

Julian nods as I coach him

“Send your magical energies inside the lampshade, and call forth a little flame,” I say softly.  “It need be no bigger than a match flame.  Just small.  And light the wick.”

Julian looks at it intensely for a long moment, and nothing happens.

“I can’t do it,” he says with a tone of annoyance.

“Yes you can,” I say.  “Let me lend you my magic… Try again…. Send your magic right inside the shade, and light it…”

He looks at the wick of the lamp intensely, but something isn’t right.  He’s not confident.

“Did it make more sense in the magical realms to you?” I ask.  “I think you were open to it there because everything is magical.  Does it feel as if it’s illogical, here, and you don’t believe you’re able to do it because you’ve never cast magic in our world?”

“I think you’re right,” he says, passing a frustrated hand over his head.

“You _can_ do this, Ilya,” I say reassuringly.  “If you could do it there, you can do it here.  You just need to push your doubt to the side.  Maybe we’ll try something more concrete again first...  Do you remember making the little flame in The Tower’s realm, where you had symbols to focus on?  Do you think that will help?”

He shrugs.  “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

I smile and excuse myself from the table, and a moment later I return with a pad of paper and a lead.

“Let’s try the same spell, then,” I suggest.  “You’ve done this one, and you know you can, so try to shake away your doubt.”

He nods his head and takes the lead in his long fingers. Again he draws the symbols I trace with my finger, and once the action symbol is drawn, I guide his hands to either side of the paper.

“Concentrate on the thought of flame,” I say softly.  “The light, the heat, the scent of the smoke…”

This time, I can feel magic beginning to tingle in the air.  It makes me smile to myself.

“That’s good, Ilya.  Now think of something you want to burn.”

His eyes are so determined.  After a long moment of concentration, a spark snaps in the air over the paper.

“That’s it, Ilya, you’re tapping in, now,” I say encouragingly.  “You can do this…”

Another spark snaps in the air, extinguishing in a tiny swirl of bluish smoke.

“Damn,” Julian sighs, but takes a deep breath and focuses his attention again.  I can feel his magic swirling over the table in front of us.

“That’s it, Ilya, you’ll get it this time,” I say softly.  “You can do it.”

Two rapid sparks pop in front of us and then a little flame dances over the action symbol on the paper.

“That’s wonderful, Ilya,” I say sweetly.  “I knew you were capable of this.  You’ve done so well.”

He’s beaming.

“Did I do this on my own?” He asks, “How much of this was with your help?”

“The only thing I gave you was verbal encouragement.  This was all your magic, Love.”

Suddenly the flame sputters and dies, but the way Julian is looking at me tells me he’s purposely extinguished it.

“I want to try the lamp again,” he says excitedly.

I slide the lamp between us again and smile at his determined face.

“Imagine that action symbol right on the wick,” I say encouragingly.  “Now light the lamp.”

He nods his head and takes a deep breath.

“You can do this, Ilya, I can feel your magic in the air,” I say softly.

He nods his head ever so slightly and focuses his attention on the wick of the lamp.  Suddenly, it lights.

“Yes!” Julian shouts with delight.  “Yes!  I did it!”

I laugh and get up from my seat to round the table and embrace him.

“I knew you could do it,” I whisper, bending to kiss him.  When I stand again, he’s wrapped his arm around my waist and draws me in against him.

“That was all you,” I whisper, kissing the crown of his head.  “You should be very proud.”  

“Don’t tell Asra you’re teaching me magic,” he laughs.  “Please keep this secret.”

I laugh.  “I’ll be quiet about it if you keep me out of your pranks.”

 

I stir softly in the night at the sound of a low murmur.  It takes me a moment to realize that Julian is still in the bed beside me, he is clutching his pillow fiercely, rolled away to the furthest edge of the mattress.  When I light my bedside candle, I can see his bare shoulders are drawn taut, the tension all the way down his back.  He groans again, wordless, but no less strained.

He’s having a nightmare.

I roll onto my side and reach out a hand to wake him.

“Ilya,” I say softly, shaking his shoulder.

It takes a moment before he wakes with a start and a shout, then slumps backwards onto his back and rubs his face, panting for breath.

“You’re safe at home, Ilya,” I whisper, rolling closer.  “Safe in bed.  I’m here.”

“Sevrina,” he sighs heavily.

“Hush, my Love,” I answer, brushing his tousled curls away from his brow.  “Start with your breath, Ilya.  Think only about your breath.  Savour your breath…”

I comb my fingers through his unruly curls as he calms himself.  My other hand comes to rest reassuringly on his chest, and his hand comes up to clutch it there, pressing it over his heart.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he whispers, brow beaded with perspiration.  “I didn’t mean to.”

“Shh, don’t worry,” I mutter, “I’m not upset… Are you alright?”

He sighs.  “I am now… Just a nightmare.  I, ah… I’ve had them since childhood, but I’ve had them more frequently since the plague… You’ll soon understand why it’s such a struggle for me to sleep enough.”

“Do you want to talk?” I ask softly, caressing his hair calmingly.  “I can make you some whitethistle tea.”

Julian shakes his head.  “No, no, my Little Mouse,” he says, “I’ve disturbed your rest enough.”

“I’ll rest better if you do, too,” I murmur, pressing little kisses to his cheek.  “Will you please take the tea?”

He reluctantly nods and I pull myself up from my side of the bed.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” I whisper, getting into my robe.  “You can tell me what’s troubling you, Ilya...  It will help you to sleep to get it off your chest.”

Julian rises from the bed and slips into his robe.  I take the bedside candle and lead us both to the kitchen, where I light a lamp and motion for Julian to take a seat at the table.  I prepare my tea diffuser with whitethistle and then prepare the pot as Julian rubs his forehead, appearing deep in thought. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.  “I’ll do my best to help.”

Julian nods, but remains quiet a moment as I prepare a cup and put the kettle onto the stove.

“It was the storm,” he says softly.  I take a seat at the table with him.  “It came on so suddenly we had no chance to get below decks, not that we’d have survived… Pasha was swept over.  Mama screamed and Papa held her back.  I ran to the edge of the deck and looked over—I could see Pasha in the water and I dove in after her.  For a long while I could only hear Mama screaming _Net, Ilya!  Net! O Bogi, net!  Moi deti!_ Gods, her screams…”

He passes a hand over his head and heaves a sigh.

“I’ll never forget those screams as long as I live… I just wish…  I wish I could remember the sound of her voice instead of her screams.”

I put my hand sympathetically over his. 

“I’m so sorry, my Love,” I whisper.

We sit a few moments in silence.  I caress the back of his hand reassuringly.

“Do you think…” he begins, then takes a moment to form his thought fully as he looks at the table.  “Do you think they were angry with me?  Do you think their last thought of me was one of bitterness?”

I squeeze his hand and lean in to make him meet my gaze.

“No, Ilya,” I say strongly.  “Absolutely not.  I’m sure they were terrified, losing sight of you both in the sea, but there is no way their last thought of you was bitter.”

He purses his lips, staring at our hands on the table.  He runs his thumb to and fro over the back of my hand, our fingers entwined, and tries to absorb my words.

“Could they have loved what I’ve become?” He whispers.  “I’ve not always been a good man… All of the troublemaking, drinking and whoring I’ve done—Hell, I still struggle to understand why _you’re_ with me sometimes…”

“Ilya, it’s true that you walked a lawless path for a long while, but look at what you are.  Look at what you’re willing to do.  You endured so much hardship in order to cure the plague.  With a smile on your face, you risked your life to save Vesuvia from it a second time. That kind of thing doesn’t just appear in the fabric of a man’s character—It has always been in you, pirate, rogue, doctor, lover.  You’re a good man.  You’re so selfless, loyal and genuine, and you have never sought to hurt others—What about any of that is shameful?  I’m sure they look on you from the realm beyond and beam with pride.”

The kettle bubbles and I rise from my seat at the table to take it off the flame.  He sits quietly, watching me stir a spoonful of honey into his tea.

“Do you really think so?” He asks softly.

“Yes, Love.  I don’t lie.”

I move back to the table and set the tea in front of him.  He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, gently pressing his cheek to my breast.  I bend to kiss the crown of his head. 

“You are worth your place in this world, in your friendships, in my heart and our home,” I whisper.  “And soon, when your clinic opens, you are going to give of yourself to help so many people.  You must sense how proud I am of you, how amazed I am every day by your selflessness, how fiercely in love with you I am…. The same qualities that make me love you would fill your parents with pride.  You have been a rowdy man, but you have always been a good man.”

“I wish I could see myself the way you do,” he says.

“I won’t let you forget it,” I say.  “I’ll show you your worth every day.”

His hold on me tightens.

“I love you, Kitten,” he whispers.

“And I love you, Ilyushenka,” I reply, kissing his hair.

He turns his head to kiss my breastbone and then looks up into my eyes, finally able to give a bit of a smile.

“I love it when you call me that,” he says sweetly.

“Drink your tea,” I whisper.  “I’ll wait with you until you can sleep.”

 Julian lets go of me and turns his attention to the cup on the table.  I round the back of him and use my magic to warm up my hands, then begin to gently massage the tension from his shoulders.

“ _Mmm_ ,” he hums as he sips his tea.  “Oh Gods, you’re good to me,” he mutters laughingly.

I chuckle lowly and bend to kiss his cheek.

“Let me love you,” I say.

“Oh, I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to,” he says, “You’d beat me every time with sheer persistence.”

I kiss his cheek again.  “Are you feeling a bit better?”

He nods slowly.  “I am…. I just wonder how different things would be sometimes… I’m sorry for keeping you awake, Kitten…”

“No, no,” I whisper.  “No more fussing.”

He sighs and takes another sip of his tea.

“Yes, Sevrina.”

I rub his shoulders for a short while as he continues to quietly sip at his whitethisle tea.

“What do you remember about your parents?” I ask softly.  “I’m curious if they would have liked me.”

Julian turns his head and smiles up at me lovingly.

“Oh, my Darling, I know they would have,” he says.  “They would have welcomed you with open arms… I’m sure they would have trusted you to keep me in line.”

I laugh softly.  “Tell me about them.”

“Papa was sterner than Mama,” he begins, “But that was just their balance, there was nothing cruel about him.  He was a doctor and a lover of art and no work of art pleased him more than my mother.  Mama could be a bit hot-headed—if Pasha only knew how she took after her, she’d be astonished.  She was beautiful and had fiery red hair, lots of freckles across her cheeks and shoulders.  Mama used to say I would make a great career on the stage…” He pauses to laugh.  “I was always a bit on the theatrical side.”

I laugh lowly. 

“You’re adorable,” I murmur.

He chuckles.  “Papa was more interested in my having a more solid career, but both of them encouraged my curiosity... I suppose I studied medicine to make him proud.  I remember how pleased he was when they found out they were having Pasha.  He waited on Mama hand and foot.  They were deeply in love.  When Pasha came, the midwife let Papa in and out of the room, but I of course had to stay put and I was afraid because I could hear Mama crying and groaning, but Pasha was an easy delivery and soon I was allowed in.  I was frightened by the bloody bedclothes but I was happy to see Mama happy and Papa and I took Pasha into the other rooms so she could rest.  I remember her, so small in Papa’s arms, his gentleness, he let me peer over and look at her tiny red face.  She’d grab my fingers and gurgle.  Papa said I would have responsibility to help take care of her.  Even as a young boy I never took it lightly.”

I smile and bend in to nuzzle his ear while I massage his shoulders.

“You’re a good man,” I whisper, kissing lightly over his sideburns.  “You have a heart that could hold the world, Love.  It would be impossible for your parents not to be proud of you.”

 

I spend the next few days preparing things to reopen the shop while Julian is working with Nazali on the clinic.  The facility Nadia has bought is about a mile’s walk from home, just south of the Town Square.

In the mornings I tend to the herb garden on the roof, tie herbs into sprigs to dry and craft charms to be sold in shop.  Then, I cook and take lunch to Julian and Nazali, eat with them, and return home to do laundry and work on dinner.  When I have time to spare, I work on sewing for Julian.  His shirt is completely assembled but today I’ve been embroidering the cuffs and collar with little flowers with white floss on the white fabric.  The details are turning out subtle and delicate, just as I’d hoped.  I want him to be pleased with the shirt.

He’s been apologizing for everything since having the nightmare, asking permission to do anything.  He’s been working so hard to get the clinic open, and Asra and Morgana have gone to the palace this evening to visit Aisha and Salim, so I have decided to spoil him tonight.  My hope it that it will help him to realize this is his home now, and he needn’t behave like a cautious guest.

Just as I begin the final flower on the cuff, I hear the door open downstairs and he calls up to me.

“It’s me, Darling,” he calls up as he locks the door behind him.  “What is that delicious aroma?”

“I went to the butcher’s and bought some minced lamb,” I say as he appears at the top of the steps.  “I thought I’d try my hand at lamb and potato dumplings for you tonight, trying to give you a little taste of Nevivon.”

He makes a yummy sound as he leans over the couch back and kisses my cheek before he sees the new white shirt in my lap, nearly finished.  He has watched it progress over the last few evenings after getting home.

“You’re even embroidering it, Sevrina?” he asks, stunned.  “Oh you shouldn’t put such hard-spent time into something only for me.  I don’t deserve…”

“Stop that,” I say, in a tone that silences him.  “I won’t have you speak that way about the man I love.  Ilya, you are worth every bit of what I give you and more.  What will it take for you to believe me?”

Julian shifts his weight and blushes with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he says seriously.  “Sometimes I struggle to feel worthy of your love and affections… I know I’ve not always been…”

“Shh,” I say, softer, tying off my thread and cutting it.  “You don’t give yourself the credit you deserve.  I know you’ve enjoyed your share of trouble, but you’ve never had a wicked heart.  You deserve happiness.  You deserve love.”

He opens his arms feebly and I get to my feet and embrace him.

“You trust me, don’t you?  You know that I don’t lie?”

He smiles and strokes my cheek.

“Yes, my Little Star,” he whispers.  “I’ll try harder to silence my doubts… Can you forgive me?”

“Always,” I mutter, and kiss him.  When we part, I smile excitedly and hand him the shirt.

“Is it finished?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.

I hand it to him and smile.  “I wanted to have it finished before you got home.  Go try it on—I’ll make sure your dinner is hot.”

He looks down at the new shirt in his hands and back up to my eyes.

“You’re so good to me,” he says, and kisses me quickly.  I trot out to the kitchen and relight the stove, giving the dumplings a stir in the cream sauce.  It shouldn’t take long to heat them through. 

I watch Julian slough off his coat and then his shirt, and pull the new shirt on.  He smooths it down his arms and torso, smiling wily at me while I stir the pan of dumplings.

“Sevrina, I can tell you without doubt that this is the finest garment that’s ever been on my body,” he says, looking at the embroidery on the cuffs.  “This is so beautifully done, Darling—I feel like a prince.”

He steps into the kitchen so that I can look him over.

“It’s a good fit,” I say with a smile, extinguishing the flame beneath the pan.  “Do you really like it?”

“Oh no, my Little Mouse, I _love_ it,” He breathes, “It’s exquisite.  I adore it almost as much as I adore you.”

He kisses my cheek while I plate the food for him.

“Thank you,” he says, “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Ilya,” I say happily.  “Now take it off—I don’t want you to get sauce on it before you get to wear it to the wedding….  And come and get your dinner.  You’ve been working so hard all week—I want to pamper you tonight.”

Julian’s cheeks flush as he changes back into his other shirt.  “Pamper me?  Shouldn’t I be spoiling you?”

“Another night,” I say with a wink.  “Tonight I’d really rather take care of you.  You deserve it.”

He smiles and moves in to nuzzle my ear.

“So I’ve been good?” he whispers mischievously.

“I’ll tell you how good you are once you eat,” I tease.  “I want to know if it tastes right—I’ve never cooked Nevivonian food.”

He gives me a peck on the cheek and goes to sit at the table.  I bring my plate over and sit with him, and he takes a long inhale of the steam rising from his plate.

“Oh it smells delicious,” he says.  “Did Pasha give you the recipe?”

I nod.  “She gave me a few Nevivonian recipes when I saw her last.  She told me this was your favourite back in Nevivon, but that you preferred the potatoes creamier than in the recipe, so I hope I’ve done well.”

I watch him nervously as he takes a dumpling onto his fork and blows softly on it to cool it enough to taste.  When he pops it into his mouth and starts chewing, he closes his eyes and makes a soft, pleased sound at the back of his throat, and when he opens his eyes and swallows it down, he smiles.

“That is delicious,” he says lowly.  “My Gods, it’s even better than I remembered.”

“Anything I could improve on?” I ask.

Julian shakes his head.  “The dumplings are perfection.  My only critique is incredibly tiny and very easily remedied—the sauce could use just a touch of black pepper.”

I smile and rise from the table to get the peppercorn grinder from the kitchen worktop and bring it to the table.  Julian has stuffed a second dumpling into his mouth and smiles at me behind his hand as he chews, and sits back when I move to grind pepper over his plate.  When I’ve reached the appropriate amount, he puts up a hand, thanks me, and pats my bottom before I return to my chair sit to enjoy our meal together.  Once we’ve finished, I clean the dishes and inform him I’m running him a bath.

“Sevrina,” he says in protest, “This really is too much, Love…”

“No,” I assert, “You wouldn’t be complaining if I was doing all this with a Captain’s hat on, now would you?”

Julian averts his gaze to the floor.

“I should be serving you,” he says.  “You’ve been bringing me meals in the day, you take care of me at night, and I offer you nothing of worth in return.”

“No, Ilya,” I say, placing my hand on his cheek and coaxing him to look at me.  “You give me love.  You give me laughter.  You give me a sense of belonging.  You give me happiness.  And that is worth more than all the pirate gold in the world.  I may not be the Countess, but I have all of this with you and in my eyes, that makes me the richest woman in Vesuvia.  I want to cosset you with pleasures great and small, and prove to you my love is more stubborn than your doubts.  One thing I’ve yet to make you understand is the enormity of your value.  You act as if I alone saved the world from the Devil but you forget you were fighting right alongside me.  I could not have done it without you.  Let me show you how much I love you, how precious you are to me.  I want to so badly.”

He smiles shyly.

“I’m still learning how to let someone care for me,” he whispers.

“Then let me help you learn,” I murmur.  “Just concentrate on enjoying yourself—I know there’s a little hedonist in there somewhere.” 

He laughs and sweeps his arms around my waist as I reach up to kiss him.

“You love me,” he whispers into my hair as we part.  “I love how much you love me.”

I give him a quick peck on the lips and pull back to see his face.

“Now go get undressed,” I say.  “I’ll run the bath.”

                A short while later, Julian leans his lithe frame against the doorframe of the bathroom.  He’s taken off his boots and shirt, and looks so beautiful as he smiles and smells the air as I swish my hand through the bathwater, evenly distributing the effervescing salts.

“Tell me those aren’t Nevivonian salts,” he breathes delightedly.  “Oh, what a comforting smell….”

“They are,” I say with a wink.  “Although I could only get enough for one bath—they’re more expensive than I’d realized…. But there’s nothing to say you couldn’t have the treat on occasion.”

“Oh, Sevrina, you shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?” I ask softly as I turn off the water.  “I wanted to.  And besides, I’m not the one that once spent seventy silver pieces on a box of chocolates, so I hardly think you’re the one to chide me.”

I wink at him and he laughs.

“Nevivonian food, Nevivonian salts… I’m sensing a theme?”

“I want you to feel at home,” I explain softly.  “You still act like you’re my guest sometimes.  I thought maybe this would help you make the association with home.”

He steps into the bathroom and bends to kiss me.

“You’re so thoughtful,” he whispers, drawing my chin up to meet him, and kisses me quickly.  “Now, what’s to stop me from pulling you into this bath with me?”

I laugh and pull back from him. 

“If you think I’m not going to gratify your desires this evening, you’re wrong,” I chuckle, “But tonight is a lesson in allowing yourself to be loved—I don’t want it to be about anything else, so I am sure you won’t pull me into the bath because you know it would spoil my very well-thought out plan, and that would disappoint me.  So you’ll behave, won’t you?”

He laughs low in his throat as he pulls me into his arms.

“Yes, my Little Fish, I’ll be good.  But for the future, the scent of Nevivonian salts and the scent of your skin together would have no trouble at all in bringing my mind back to making love to you in the palace baths, and the idea of getting to play that game at home with you would be excessively tempting…”

I kiss him and pull back to look at his face.

“We will have to do a home re-enactment in the future, then,” I whisper with a wink, “But tonight is for me to love you.  Be a good boy and get undressed and get into the bath, hmm?”

He does as I ask and a moment later his trousers are in an untidy pile on the floor.  He steps his long legs over the high sides of the bath and lets out a pleased sigh as he settles himself into the water and reclines.  I can’t help smiling.

“What first?” I ask eagerly.  “Hand massage?  Wash your hair?  What would you like?”

“Sevrina,” he whimpers.  “I can’t give you orders…”

“Oh, Ilya, no—It isn’t like that,” I explain.  “I only want to know what you’d find most relaxing.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs as I put my hand into the water and gently slosh it over his chest, “I _do_ love it when you play with my hair…”

I pick up a bowl from the side of the bath and a small bottle with it, and move around to the end of the tub by his head, where I take a seat on a small stool.  I fill the bowl with bathwater and gently wet his hair, watching a lazy smile form on his lips.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you, Sevrina.”

I open the little bottle in my lap and pour the contents into my hands, working it into a nice warm lather before massaging it through his hair.  It is a complimentary, sea-scented hair soap that doesn’t distract from the scent of the Nevivonian salts.  I can tell in looking over his body posture that he’s beginning to relax.

“Sevrina,” he murmurs softly.  “Sing… Please sing something to me.”

I smile and begin to sing to him.  His mouth curls into an easy smile and he mutters little whispers of love to me as I sing to him and rinse his hair, turning his head to encourage my touch down the side of his neck.  I give him what he wordlessly asks for and caress his neck, running my touch from behind his ear down to his collar bones and back up again.  He smiles languidly, listening to me sing and soaking in the attention contentedly.  Without disrupting the rhythm of my caress, I move myself over to the side of the bath to look at his handsome face, and he opens his eyes to see me when I end the song.

We gaze at each other a long moment in quiet, all languid smiles and tender gazes, and I take up a piece off sponge on the lip of the bath and lather it up with soap, then begin to gently wash his arms.  He watches me silently as I wash him.  I press kisses to his hands and then wash his chest, belly, and legs.  He lifts his left hand to his face and bites down on the knuckle of his forefinger as I wash him, cheeks pink and eyes glossy with emotion.  I ask him sit up, and he does as I ask.  I take the sponge and wash his shoulders and back, and then I take the bowl I used to wet his hair and rinse the lather from his skin.

“Are you ready to get out of the bath?” I ask softly.  “The water is getting cold.”

Still silent, he nods his head and moves to stand, and I open a towel up, surrounding him in the warmth of the soft, dry fabric.  After giving himself a quick pat down with it, he wraps it around his waist and draws me in to his still-damp arms.

He says nothing for a long moment, just kisses the crown of my head and holds me against his chest.  I know he isn’t used to being treated with gentleness and care this way.  I kiss the hollow of his collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers at last, his voice catching.  I crane my head up to look at his face.  A soft expression lingers in his heavy-lidded eyes, but his lower lip trembles.

“Are you alright?” I whisper. He gives me a wobbly smile.

“I’m perfectly contented,” he says softly, “I’m just lost in you… Lost in us.”

He pulls me flush against him.  I feel a tremor in his arms, and then his breath hitches.

“Gods, I love you,” he whispers, tears now audible in his voice.

“Ilya?” I whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “I’m not used to this.  I don’t know how to receive this.”

“Let me show you,” I say, running my hands comfortingly up and down his back.  “Let me give you love, Ilya.  Let me show you with what depth I adore you.”

I pull back from him enough to run my hands over his hair, drying it with my magic.  He sniffs and smiles a little, and I place my hand gently along his cheek.

“Let me love you, Ilyushenka,” I whisper.  “Will you come to bed with me?”

He nods slightly, and wipes his eyes.  “Anything you say.”

I lead him from the bathroom to our bedroom, and usher him in ahead of me.  I extinguish the lights behind us with a snap of my fingers, and light the bedside lamps in the same way before I close the door behind us.

“Give me your towel, Love,” I whisper.  “And get comfortable.  I’ll only be a moment.”

He hands me the towel and I hang it on the back of the bedroom door.  He pulls back the bedclothes and lays his long, white body across the cool, clean sheets, face up.

“Like this?” he whispers.

“Any way you’re happy, Love,” I say softly.  “I want you to be comfortable, so any way you like.  Do you need anything?”

“Come lay with me in your skin,” he whispers.  “Please come and be near me.”

“Of course, Love,” I whisper. 

He watches me intensely as I pull off my tunic and trousers and toss them into the washing basket.  I round my side of the bed and climb onto the mattress beside him.  His eyes never leave me.  I scoot over to his side, and prop myself up on an elbow to look down over him, and I rake my fingers through his untidy curls.

“Are you alright?” I ask softly.

He barely nods, and sniffs back fresh tears.

“A little overwhelmed,” he whispers, his throat catching.  “The last time I was touched this way was in your room at the palace grounds those years ago… You held me after I awakened from a nightmare and kissed my hair and face, and you soothed my mind with promises of a peaceful life….  I knew how to accept this kind of touch and attention, then…. With all the guilt, the running, the self-loathing of these last years I’ve forgotten how.”

“Let me show you,” I whisper gently, and bend low to kiss across his cheeks, his brow, his eyelids.  He whimpers softly.  I’ve never seen him so quiet and meek, even in the moments he’s been eager to submit to me.  I pull back to look at him, to measure his expression, to query his comfort.  His cheeks are pink, and his hands are clasped together over his chest, white-knuckled, trembling.

“Are you alright?” I whisper.

He lets away a shaking sigh.  “I… I won’t ever understand how you can love me so…”

“You don’t have to understand tonight,” I whisper.  “I just want you to accept.  Accept that I want to shower you in care and affection and love tonight, show you how worthy you are to be doted on, how precious you are to me without any air of expectation from me.  I’m doing this so that you can experience being fawned over, being the centre of attention, and so that you can know that you deserve to be loved, cared for and pleasured.”

Julian opens his eyes again and manages a small smile.  He reaches a hand up to caress my cheek, but doesn’t say anything.

“Sevrina, it’s wonderful to be loved by you—Do I tell you that enough?”

I just smile and bend in to kiss him again and he draws me deep into the embrace.  When we part, I slide my hands over his chest.  He involuntarily arches into my touch, and I smile.

“Will you let me pleasure you?” I ask softly.  “Let me show you how much I adore you.”

He sighs and lays his hand over mine on his cheek.

“I should be worshipping _you_ ,” he whispers. 

“Let yourself be loved tonight,” I say, nuzzling his nose.  “I want to shower _you_ with tenderness.  Sweet affection…. I know you’ve seen too little of that in your life.  Let yourself feel cherished and completely adored….”

His cheeks flush and he sighs, embarrassed, unsure.

“You love me so much,” he says, barely a whisper.  “What have I ever done to deserve such fierce and persistent adoration from a heart so pure and tender?”

“Ilya, what have I ever done to deserve such all-encompassing, ravenous passion from a heart so captivating and wild?”

“Simply be,” he whispers, caressing my cheek.  “Simply be.”

“That’s the answer to your question, too, Ilyushenka.  Simply be.”

He laughs softly, in spite of himself.  “I love you.”

“And I love you,” I whisper.  “Let me show you how worthy of it you are.”

He nods and I move my kisses further south down his throat, to his collarbone and shoulders and then down to his chest where I run my fingers through his chest hair.  A sly peek up at his face shows me his eyes are closed and he is soaking in the touch, and one of his hands lays softly, delicately at the back of my head, caressing my hair with just the barest of pressure; so gentle.

The flavour of his skin is tinged with the salt from the bath.  When I sweep my tongue over his nipple, he murmurs softly that he loves me.  I swirl my fingertip over his nipple as I lift my mouth away to say that I love him, too.  He opens his eyes and smiles at me sweetly, finally showing comfort in surrendering to this wave of love.  He watches contentedly as I kiss his chest and ribs, and shudders with delight at my hand encircles his shaft, which is already perfectly, deliciously erect.  After kissing down his belly, I draw myself back up to his mouth to kiss him, and he gives me a look of aching as I stroke him slowly.

“Open your legs up, Ilya,” I whisper.  “I need room.”

He kisses me as he accommodates my request, soft little sounds stirring in his mouth. 

“I love you,” he mutters lowly.  His breathing more laboured.  I take a moment to savour the sight of him, cheeks, throat and heaving chest flushed in reflection of his avidity. The sight of him is the most beautiful sight I can imagine.

“Gods, I love you, Ilya,” I whisper in a tone unable to disguise my own desire as I position myself between his legs, and nuzzle into his inner thigh as I continue to treat his sex to long, slow strokes.  He watches me intensely as I kiss his thigh up to the place where it meets the thatch of short russet curls at his pelvis, and he reaches down to brush my hair out of his view while I kiss softly at the sensitive skin there and inhale his salty musk.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, a yearning in his eye.

I lay my head teasingly on his thigh like a pillow and smile at him mischievously.  He gives a small grin and chuckles lowly as he reaches his hand down again to rake through my hair, making sure it is well out of the way of view for what’s to come.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper.  “My heart feels as if it could burst looking at you.”

He smiles bashfully.  “I love you, Darling… You’re making my head spin….”

I laugh low in my throat with a note of naughtiness that makes him smile wide.  The smile drops when I shift myself up from his thigh and use my free hand to delicately fondle his testicles, rolling them softly in my palm as I continue to slowly stroke him.  A little fluid is already weeping from the tiny slit at the tip of his arousal.  He makes a low, soft sound as I slowly wrap my lips around it, swirling my tongue around the tip before drawing him further into my mouth.  He reaches a hand up and clenches at the pillow beneath his head and lets out a fluttery, hot exhale.  When I draw him into my mouth again, he heaves a strangled whisper in Nevivonian.

“ _O dorogoy_ ….Sevrina…”

Oh, his vocalizations are sweet as music in my ears…  He lets out little whining sounds as I drag my tongue along the length of him from base to tip and then draw him into my mouth again and then bob my head up and down his shaft, giving him gradually deeper entries until I feel him at the back of my throat.  I keep my pace slow and sweet, and he whimpers softly as he looks down at me, biting his lip, cheeks flushed, new tears glistening in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he whispers as a tear breaks over his cheek. “I love you.”

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask softly.

“It’s wonderful,” he whispers.  “It’s wonderful, but I need you nearer…”

I pull my body back up the length of his, but continue to stroke him, long and slow, as I kiss him softly over his cheeks and lips.  He lets out a soft, wordless murmur and he brushes my hair back from my face.  I kiss down the tracks of his tears and nuzzle his nose between soft, open-mouthed kisses while he continues to whimper for the slow, steady friction I give him with my hand.

“Please, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “Let me feel you inside… Please… I need you closer...”

“Yes, Ilya… Yes, Love…”

I kiss his mouth softly and shift myself over him so that I’m astride his slender hips.  I guide him into me and slowly bear down, and his hands slide sweetly over my back as we kiss, and I rock against him, slow, deep and aching. 

“I love you,” he whispers desperately, “I love you, Sevrina, I love you…”

“Oh, Ilyushenka, I adore you… I adore you…”

I wipe his cheeks as he continues to weep as we make love.  My own tears begin to break from my eyes, and when he sees, we share a soft laugh, all the while I continue to slowly rock against him.  He draws my mouth to his and kisses me deeply, swallowing up the soft, hungry sounds bubbling up in my throat.

“Ilya,” I whisper, closing my eyes tightly as the sensation of him inside me builds into heat and delicious pressure.

“Yes, Kitten,” he whispers.  “Yes, please….”

A throaty sound makes its way out of me as I crest, my body arching and whining against his as his hands cling achingly at my hips, and just as I’m descending from the height of pleasure, he whispers my name.

“Sevrina… Oh, Love, I’m… I’m going to….”

“Yes, Ilya…”

His eyes press tightly shut and he exhales a forceful breath as he spends.  I kiss his cheeks as he groans my name, panting, heaving and he wraps his arms tightly around my back, holding me tight against him.

“I love you,” he whispers, “I love you…. I love you….”

With every recitation of his love, I respond in kind—Ardent, emotional and dewy-eyed.  He keeps his eyes closed tight as his breathing steadies, and I stroke his cheeks with both hands, nuzzling his nose until at last he opens his clear, grey eyes and gazes up at me in amazement.

I smile sweetly down at him, but for several minutes we say nothing, just lost in the wonder of the other, and he draws me down into a deep, slow, ardent kiss.

His mouth opens for mine, lips soft and sweet, tongue explorative and tender.  When we part, tears are streaming from both our eyes, and he wipes my cheeks with a reverent, gentle touch.

“I’m sure you’re an angel sometimes,” he whispers.

I smile and press my cheek to his hand.

“I’m just a woman reunited with the other half of her soul,” I whisper.  “A woman who will never take for granted the immeasurable good fortune that brought us back together…”

I pull myself up from his body and lay myself beside him.  He rolls over onto his side to look into my eyes.

 “Thank you,” he murmurs.  “Thank you for loving me, Sevrina.”

“You are loved beyond measure,” I whisper.  “Come here and let me hold you.”

I roll onto my back and Julian pulls the covers up over us, and nestles into my arms, laying his head on my breast.

“I’ll sleep well tonight,” he whispers sweetly, and I put out the light.


	29. Scars

A few days later, Julian is still working hard with Nazali toward getting the clinic ready to open.  At Asra’s urging, I have opened shop the last few days as he and Morgana pack up their things to move into the new house. He says it will be good for the community to know we are open again.

“Shouldn’t I be helping you, instead?” I ask.

“Don’t worry, Sister,” Asra says.  “We don’t have much to pack up, in all honesty.  We are leaving a lot of things behind for you and Ilya, and we’re going to need to go to the market for some things before we actually shift it all to the new house.”

“Won’t you need help carrying it all?”

“We’re going to hire a wagon,” Asra says.  “Really, it’s best to just work in the shop while we get it all shifted.  I’m sure Morgana will come up with a few things you can help with, but please don’t fuss.”

He kisses my cheek and laughs.

“Do you have enough help?” I ask.  “Ilya’s strong… I’m sure he could be a good help carrying things if you want me to stay here.”

Asra laughs.  “No, don’t worry, Sevrina.  It’s no issue of strength.”

I go quiet and look at him quizzically when Morgana comes down the stairs and to the counter.  She kisses Asra and then looks at me.

“Something wrong?” she asks.

“No,” I say slowly, still eyeing my Brother.  “I just think Asra doesn’t want our help with your move.  Is there a reason you’re avoiding us helping?”

“Rina, we just know how much you’ve been through,” Morgana explains.  “We want to let you have some time to feel normal.  I was going to ask you to cook some for us, so that we didn’t have to stop.”

“Alright,” I agree.  “If you think that is the best way for me to help, I’ll cook.”

“Yes,” Asra says.  “Sevrina, you’re the best.”

I laugh.  “I never get the hang of cooking skink, but I’ll make sure it’s something you like.”

The bell at the door jangles, and we look over as the door opens.  In steps a palace servant ahead of Nadia, who is followed by a second servant.

“Hello, my friends,” she says with a sweet smile.

“Nadia!” I say delightedly.  “What brings you here?”

“The last few days, we have spent repairing the damages Lucio and the courtiers did to the palace at the Masquerade,” Nadia explains, “And when I was surveying the palace it lead me to the library, and I thought the Doctor would like to have his desk….There were such a number of personal effects in it that I surmised some of it may hold some sentimental attachment, and I wanted to deliver it to its owner.  I’ve included his papers from his time searching for the plague cure… I thought if nothing else, destroying them might be cathartic.”

“Thank you for such a thoughtful gesture, Nadia,” I say softly.  “I’m sure he will be very appreciative.”

“He is at the clinic now, I suppose?”

I nod. “Yes, he has been working tirelessly in getting it ready… He’s hardly stopped… And beyond that, I think he’s excited about this.”

Nadia smiles.  “So Nazali has told me.  They say he is very dedicated to it, very focused and working very hard, and as such, things are moving quite ahead of schedule.”

I nod my head.  “It is very important to him.  Thank you again for this opportunity.  Neither of us takes it lightly.”

“I will stop by the clinic to see their progress once I leave the desk with you,” Nadia says, and then smiles.  “I do hope that you all know I fully expect you to take some time away from work to play.  A balance of the two is only healthy, and I know it isn’t in the Doctor’s nature to go without a little frivolity.”

I laugh and nod my head.  “I’ll be sure he knows you said so, Nadia.”

“You should take him out for a drink,” Morgana pipes in.  “He hasn’t had one in ages.”

We all share a laugh and then Nadia smiles sweetly and takes a step nearer to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Might I inquire how you’re feeling, Sevrina?  You’ve been in my thoughts.”

“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” I say with a smile.  “I took a few days good rest before I did anything.  I’m feeling much more myself.”

“Wonderful,” she says sweetly.  “Portia had told me that she’d brought the Doctor’s old letters to you and that it was quite an emotional afternoon.  I suppose I really stopped by to check on my friend.”

“I appreciate that, Nadia,” I say, and embrace her.  I can feel a soft laugh roll through her, still taken by surprise at my candour with her.  When she pulls back I think I see a hint of a blush on her cheeks.  She laughs softly and turns to her servants.

“Please bring in the Doctor’s desk,” she says.  They nod and turn out of the door again, and a moment later, they bring in the desk and chair from the library, and I ask them to follow me upstairs with it.  Julian and I have discussed using Asra and Morgana’s room as an office and sewing room once they are moved into the new house, but for now the desk will have to fit into some vacant space in our bedroom.

“Thank you, Nadia,” I say once the desk is in my room.  “Will you stay for tea?”

She shakes her head politely.  “I would be more than happy to another time, but I am to meet with Consul Valerius at his estate this afternoon to discuss the Flooded District.  I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of time if I’m to stop by the clinic on my way.”

I nod.  “I understand.  You do know you’re more than welcome here at any time, Nadia?”

She smiles.  “Of course.   I will make a point to come with Portia when my schedule isn’t so demanding.”

I laugh softly.  “You must put some play into your life, as well, Nadia.”

She chuckles and nods her head.  “I must remember to take my own advice sometimes.”

I laugh.  “I’m sure Portia will keep you right.”

Nadia laughs and nods her head.  “She is certainly very obliging.”

 

 

Morgana and Asra go to market and I prepare a dinner of pheasant, vegetables and rice in one pan so that it will be easy to heat through when they return.  After cooking, I return to the shop to do a few last-minute preparations for tomorrow’s work day while I wait for Julian.  While I’m pulverising dried blue pea blossoms to powder with a mortar and pestle, the back door opens and he calls in to me.

“Sevrina, I’m home, Darling.”

“You’re early!” I laugh.  “Was Nadia round to tell you you’re working too hard?”

Julian laughs as he hangs up his cloak on a peg by the door.  “Yes—She said I’m working too hard and demanded that I come home to you and enjoy myself.  How did you know?”

He comes behind the counter to kiss me hello and then sloughs off his coat and takes up a chair, laying it across his lap as I explain.

“She stopped by here, first,” I say.  “She brought you your old desk.  She said she left all of your papers and personal effects.”

“Really?” Julian laughs.  “Where is it?”

“In the bedroom,” I say.  He stands up to head up the stairs and I call him back.

“Ilya, wait.”

“What is it, Kitten?”

“Nadia said that she included all of your papers from your plague research,” I say.  “I don’t want them to upset you.  She said that she left those for you because she thought you might feel some deliverance if you destroyed them.”

He steps back to me.

“I will wait until you look over them with me, then,” he says softly.  “And we’ll put them in the stove together.”

I funnel my powder into a glass vial and nod my head.

“Was there something in that desk you wanted just now?”

He smiles.  “That depends on whether they were clever enough to find it when they searched it.”

I laugh.  “Does this one have a hidden drawer, same as the one in the dungeon?”

He smiles.  “It has _two_ hidden compartments,” he laughs, “And they’re rather more difficult to trigger than the one in the dungeon.  If they found it, fair play to them.”

I chuckle.  “What did you hide in them?”

He smirks.  “Letters to you that I was too afraid to ever give you lest Asra and Morgana run across them…  Some of your handkerchiefs and a string of beads you gave me that you said would help me think… Oh, Gods, I have to see if they’re there…”

He bolts up the stairs with a smile on his face and I clean up my things from the counter and shut the shop.  I head up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he is standing in the middle of the room at the desk and reaching around the back to the underside.

“You have to press it just right, or it won’t budge,” he says with a laugh.  “I wonder if I still have the touch….”

Just then, I hear a panel give, and with a mischievous laugh, he slides it aside and reaches into the compartment.  When he pulls his hand out, he’s holding a small bundle, wrapped in fabric.

“Oh Gods,” he whispers excitedly, and sets it on the cushion of the chair, and gets on his knees at the floor to examine them.

“I hid these here in the time our love affair was secret,” he whispered.  “I would take them out and touch them when I was frustrated or tired and it lightened my heart…”

He unfolds the piece of linen and inside are two handkerchiefs, both embroidered at the corners, and a string of tiger’s eye and fluorite beads.  He sighs when he unfolds them and presses them to his lips reverently.  When I get closer, I can tell the stitching is mine.

There are folded papers here as well, but I don’t reach out to touch them. 

“Oh Kitten,” he whispers.  “What a strange sensation to be looking at these secret treasures again…”

He presses the handkerchiefs to his lips again and I get on the floor opposite him, looking over the makeshift table of the chair cushion.

“What are these?” I ask, pointing to the papers.

He chuckles.  “Those are the letters I never gave you… In retrospect, I’m rather pleased I didn’t.  If I had given these to you not knowing you’d never had a lover before me… Oh, Gods.  They contain… Some, ah… Rather… Shall we say, _detailed_ descriptions of things I wanted for us and in particular things I wanted to do for you… I never gave them to you because I was sure if Asra found out, he’d kill me.”

“Erotic letters?”  I ask mischievously.  I go to reach for them and he snatches them away laughingly.

“I’ll read them to you one night,” he teases, “And you can tell me what parts you’d like me to realise…. But there is one here, if I remember correctly, that I should show you now….”

He fiddles with the papers, peeking into the messages and trying to find the one he wants.  When he finds it, he reads a part of it silently before snapping to attention and returning to the desk, fingers groping for the entrance to the other hidden compartment.  When it gives, he reaches in and gasps softly, then chuckles to himself.

“I bought this for you,” he says. “I bought this for you before I told you how I felt, and I was going to give both this and the letter to you at once… But our picnic-turned-love confession happened before I could gather the courage, and then I stupidly forgot about it, just so ecstatic that you loved me…”

He pulls out a small, velvet drawstring pouch and opens it before retrieving a cuff bracelet of iridescent blue and green shell, all one seamless, glimmering piece, polished and shining in the light.  He reaches for my wrist and deftly slides it on.

“A token of love from your sea-faring reprobate, stupid as sin with adoration of the magician that bewitched him…”

He brings my fingers to his lips and I pull him nearer to kiss him before I examine the bracelet.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.  “Oh, thank you, Ilya….”

“I wanted to give it to you with this letter,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple before returning his attention to the paper to read it to me.

 

 

_My Dearest Sevrina,_

_I hope that you can understand the level of torment I’ve inflicted upon myself as I sit to write this—Running over all of the reasons I’m unworthy of your time and friendship, all of my very obvious and deep-seated flaws, all of the reasons you shouldn’t feel fondness of any kind for my company.  I have decided to take your sister’s advice and be open with you about what’s happening inside of me. You deserve nothing less than truth and honesty, and to give you that which you deserve, I must now take a risk that frightens me more than anything ever has in all my life... I cannot continue to lie to you about what is in my heart._

_Sevrina, my heart has fluttered at the thought of you since we met. Over these wonderful months of friendship and sharing your enchanting company, it began to ache to such a profound degree that I feel so perfectly joyful when I’m near you, and entirely miserable when we’re apart.  My thoughts always swim with the thought of when I will next see you, my aching to be closer and the terror of whether or not I will be able to hold back from kissing you the next time need surges in me._

_I love you more than my foolish heart can express.  I lay myself at your feet for all my life long.  This faulted and unworthy heart is yours until it stops beating, and even then, in every day thereafter until it turns to dust—but even so, my soul will love you everlastingly._

_With a heart eternally yours,_

_Ilya_

 

 

“You spoke to Morgana about me?” I ask softly.

“I did,” he says, getting to his feet and reaching out to help me up from the floor.

“What did you say to her?” I ask.  “And what did she say to you?”

He laughs and we go to sit together on the edge of the mattress.

“I hemmed and hawed,” he says with a laugh as he passes his hand over his head.  “I couldn’t quite manage to get it out, so she said, _Ilya, I know you’re in love with her.  You can’t hide it from me._   I told her that I was afraid you’d want to end our friendship if you knew the way I felt, and she told me not to be so stupid.  She said, _Honesty is very important to Sevrina.  She would never damn you out of hand for telling her what’s in your heart._   I asked about Asra, then, and she said, _If I were you, I’d be a lot more worried about me than him._ ”

He pauses to laugh and I reach over to kiss him.  He gently presses me back onto the mattress as we kiss, his fingers trailing in my hair, and when he parts the kiss to continue his story, he is smiling dreamily down over me.

“I loved you madly, then, Kitten,” he whispers, “But I love you even more now than I did then.”

“I love you, too,” I say softly.   “Tell me the rest.”

“Well, I’ll spare you the threats she promised against certain tender parts of my anatomy if I was ever stupid enough to hurt you,” he laughs, “But she told me she knew my friendship was good for you and she believed I meant only the best for you, and told me that she was on my side.  _Just tell her,_ she said.  _Talk to her, write her a letter, sing her a song, anything that will make it clear to her that you love her._   I suspect she must have felt it wasn’t her place to let me know that you were in love with me, too, but she encouraged me to tell you.  I nearly did the night of the dance—she prodded me to, that evening—But I wanted it to be the perfect moment… I went into the city and bought you that bracelet fully intending to give it to you with the letter… It’s a Nevivonian tradition to give a wearable token of love when one declares his feelings in a letter.”

I laugh softly.  “I just got it a few years later than intended.”

Julian leans down to nuzzle my nose.

"I’ll give you the entire world,” he whispers.

We let a quiet moment pass over us and he smiles down at me.  He kisses my mouth softly and then presses his sweet kisses over my cheeks until I feel the hot puffs of his breath ghost over my ear.  I press my cheek into his lips and smile to myself, soaking in the affection.

“What do you want to do with your night off, my Love?” I ask.

He chuckles mischievously and kisses down my neck, unbuttoning the buttons at the top of my dress over my breast.

“I thought it was obvious,” he says lowly.  “I’ve had lewd images of you in my mind all afternoon.  I want to act them out.”

I giggle mischievously and I still his hands.

“We have _all night_ for that, Ilyushenka,” I laugh.  “You’re insatiable…”

"Insatiable,” he agrees, “Amorous, libidinous, greedy, decadent, licentious… But you are the aphrodisiac that draws it out of me, Darling, it’s entirely your fault.”

We laugh and kiss playfully, but because I stilled his hands, he doesn’t try to undress me further.  Even in moments of rawest passion he has always been careful to follow my lead.  Looking into his eyes, I can see his admiration, his respect, his passion and the pure, unfettered love that heightens them all. 

“We can make love when it’s time for bed,” I say softly.  “But let’s go out for a walk… We can go for a gondola ride, or stroll by the docks… Or—Morgana pointed out today you haven’t been for a drink in a while?”

He grins.

“I’d love to drink and dance and show you off at the Rowdy Raven,” he says decidedly. “And I won’t drink too much, I promise…  I’ll stay sober enough to thrill you when we get home.”

I kiss him and sit up from the bed, and he follows suit. 

“Dress so you feel pretty,” he says, nuzzling my cheek.  “We’ll have some of that pheasant and rice before we leave, and then we’ll get a little rowdy… What do you say?”

I laugh.  “Perfect.”

 

I wear one of my old dresses—sage green, hand-embroidered over the bodice with turtle doves.  I tie a dark cord belt around my waist and comb out my hair.  I select a leather stick barrette to put it up with, and don’t give more than a passing thought to the scars that show because the neckline dips at the back.

Julian puts on a fresh shirt and jokes about whether he’ll be recognized without the eyepatch.  I assure him that the moment he flashes his charming, debonair smile, everyone will know him, and we leave home to head to the South End.

As we approach the door to the Rowdy Raven, there are two women standing near the steps and chatting.  Julian knows I’m not all that used to taverns and is taking a minute to reassure me.

“Dearest, this isn’t like that place in the Red Market at all, I promise you,” he says.  “I’ve never been in a fight here.  This is an _eat, drink and be merry_ kind of place.  Dancing, drinks and frivolity.  And you will be well loved here.  There’s a fair share of rogues, hustlers and lawbreakers of course, but none I know that would harm a lady, especially the lady that saved me…”

Hearing Julian’s voice, the two chatting women break their conversation and look towards us.  The first is a bony old crone smoking a tobacco pipe—I’ve seen her play cards here before.  The second is a young, pretty blond with rouged cheeks, red lips and hard eyes.  When she sees Julian, she lights up.

“Jules!” She cries, shoving me aside without a second glance and embracing him.  “You’re back!”

She begins to press kisses across his cheeks, which he visibly dislikes.  It’s clear she isn’t some old friend—She’s a nuisance.  He takes hold of her arms and gently pushes her away from him.  A sickening fury begins to percolate in my belly, but I keep quiet.

“Good evening, Scarlet,” he says, nodding his head in cool acknowledgement, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiping her lipstick from his cheeks.

“Here I was hoping to drum up a bit of business,” she says with a laugh, reaching over to run her fingers intimately through his hair.  “But now you’re back, and all I want to do is dance with you…”

Though he pulls back, she presses into him for another kiss and as her lips hit his, his hands go again to her upper arms and he pushes her back again. 

“Scarlet, stop it,” he says firmly, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

He puts his arm around me and we step past her toward the door.  She scowls at me.

“You will save me a dance, won’t you, Jules?” She calls after us.  “I always show you a good time, don’t I?”

Julian pulls me in front of him to trot up the stairs ahead of him, and I press open the door to head into the tavern.

“You can see I’m with someone,” he says, then adds under his breath as we head through the door, “Give it a rest, fuck sakes… It’s never going to happen.”

When we step into the tavern, the burly barkeep shouts delightedly, “Well, if it isn’t the Hanged Man!”  It ignites a wave of cheers.

“Where’s your noose, Jules?”

“You’re looking well for a dead man, aren’t you!”

“Devorak, how the hell did you get out of that one?”

 Julian laughs and waves in acknowledgement.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough” he laughs, quieting the crowd, “Calm down now—I just want to say first and foremost that I am happy to be here, but before the gossip starts, I must introduce you to the lovely woman beside me; her name is Sevrina, and she is the reason I am still standing…”

The crowd cheers and Julian himself turns to applaud me.  My cheeks heat up and I wave in acknowledgement, hoping the attention of all these eyes will move elsewhere.  Julian puts his arm around my shoulders.

“And your eyes do not deceive you,” he continues, “You’ll all know her face if you were at that trial silliness a short while back—Something about the Count’s murder?”  He pauses and the crowd laughs.  “Well, not only did she argue for and ultimately prove my innocence, but it is because of her that I am alive at all.  It cannot be explained with brevity, but I will also say, surely to the chagrin of all of you, that the lady is mine, and I am hers, so I don’t want to catch any of you fiends attempting to catch her eye, alright?”

“I knew she was your _Special Someone,_ Devorak!” The barkeep calls out.

“That she is,” Julian replies, looking at me with intense affection.

The crowd bursts into applause and Julian embraces me, unabashedly kissing me before putting his arm around my waist and heading for the bar.  He orders drinks for us and the barkeep, feeling celebratory at Julian’s return, refuses money for them.

“You’re drinking for free tonight, Devorak,” he says with a wide smile, revealing a silver tooth.  “Drinks for the both of you are on the house tonight, don’t be shy.”

“When have you ever known me to be shy, Barth?”  Julian says, making the two of them laugh.  The barkeep turns his attention to me and extends his hand.

“Barth’s the name,” he says, “And you are most welcome to the Rowdy Raven, Sevrina.  Thank you for getting this idiot on his feet again.”

I smile and take his hand and he shakes it.  “Thank you for the warm welcome,” I say softly.     

“Let me get your drinks,” Barth says with a wink. 

“How’s Petra?” Julian asks him.  “Is she back on her feet yet?”

“Yes, bit by bit,” Barth replies.  “She’s complaining about having put on some weight from having to be bedbound so long, but between you and me, I’ve never loved the shape of her more.  I reminded her how I couldn’t keep my hands off her when she was carrying a little extra weight after our oldest, and she says, _I know, and that’s how we have six boys!_ ”

Julian chuckles and turns to me to explain.

“Barth’s wife’s knee was badly injured in a fall from a ladder in their house,” he says.  “Barth bustled to Mazelinka’s to get me as fast as he could, and I was off like a shot to help.”

Barth turns around and sets the first stein on the table.

“I never felt so helpless in all my life,” he says, “But Ilya here was brilliant.  He reset the knee, braced it, cleaned up all of her cuts and scrapes and told us how to manage her pain… I think with time she’ll be good as new.”

“Tell her I send my best,” Julian says. “And if you ever need assistance again, Barth, I’m living above the Magic Shop in the Centre City with Sevrina, now.  I’m working with the Countess on setting up a free clinic just south of the Town Square as part of her restorations of the city, and it will be open soon, but you can always come to our door for help.”

“Thank you,” Barth says as he sets a second stein on the counter.  “I’ll tell Petra you were asking after her.  I’m glad you’re back, Ilya.  Let me know when you’re thirsty again.”

As we turn from the bar, Julian spies a small, vacant table about halfway back the tavern.  It takes several minutes for us to get there, as we are stopped many times by people eager to welcome Julian back, and eager to meet his _Special Someone_.  When we get back to our table, he pulls out a chair for me, and pulls his chair around to the same side of the table so that we can sit near to one another.   He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the back of his chair.  I do the same with my shawl, and we sit together.

Julian takes a drink from his stein and looks over the crowd, smiling to himself as they resume their music and dancing.  I look over at him and see a bit of lipstick still smudged on his face.

“Give me your handkerchief,” I say softly.

When he hands it to me, I find a clean corner and wipe the remnants of lipstick away.  

“Who was that woman?” I ask softly, “And why was she kissing you?”

“Scarlet the harlot,” he says, letting out an exasperated laugh.  “She’s a whore who looks for business at the taverns and dance halls in the South End.”

“Have you visited her bed?” I ask.

“No,” he says.  “I’ve danced with her here a few times, but that’s the extent of it.  She’s invited me to her room several times, even free of charge, and I’ve declined without fail every time, even when I’ve been absolutely inebriated.  I don’t want her, and I never have.  She’s just a silly girl who is infatuated with me.  She’s never been as bold about it as she was outside—I can only assume that was to try and upset you and get you away from me.”

I nod.  I can tell he’s being truthful with me.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says.  “I promised you a light-hearted, fun night, and I tried to diffuse it without causing a scene.  I know you don’t like scenes.”

I smile at him and take his hand.

“I believe you,” I say, “And I believe you’d be truthful with me if something had happened with her.”

“I would,” he says, leaning over to kiss my cheek.  “The only bed I’ve ever been to in Vesuvia is yours.”

I sip my drink and smile at him.

“If we don’t stay out too late, would you like to visit my bed tonight?” I tease.

He smiles rakishly.

“Do you want to go home right now?”

I laugh and lean in to kiss him.  He nuzzles into the touch and when we part, his fingers trail idly at the back of my neckline, and he caresses my scars lovingly.

“I know you’ve been with whores,” I whisper, “And I have never judged you for gratifying your needs… But will you tell me… Did you frequent other beds in the time you had no memories of me?”

Julian sighs and looks down at his stein.  Whatever he is about to tell me is painful, and he doesn’t want to tell me about it, but he takes a deep breath and he’s honest with me.

“When I was in Hjalle, there was a boy I visited several times,” he whispers, running his thumb absently over the rim of his stein.  “He approached me in a tavern.  His eyes were the same stormy green as yours and he had dark hair and very fair skin like yours.  I know now that it was because I was missing you that I went to him, his eyes were so like yours it made me ache… The first night I went to him I paid him to just let me hold him…  I pet his hair, I pleasured him so that I could watch his face as he spent in my hand…  In the weeks that followed, I fucked him a dozen times or so, and he consoled me as I wept in his arms after…  I left Hjalle in part because I wanted answers and because the pain I was trying to slake in his bed was only deepening…  I couldn’t remember you, but I knew you were missing, and although this young man was good to me, he wasn’t you.  He never confirmed it but he seemed to understand I was seeking a lost someone in his arms.  But he’d never fill the void.  That was the only time I tried to cure the pain in someone’s bed.”

“Ilya,” I breathe, taking his hand.

“Forgive me, Sevrina,” he says sheepishly.  “I was seeking you in all the wrong ways.”

“Shh, Ilya,” I whisper, stroking his cheek.  “I know, Love.  There’s nothing to forgive.  I’m not hurt or angry.”

He looks over at me and gives me a small smile.

“How is it that you’re so understanding and accepting of this stupid rogue?” He asks softly.  “What did I ever do to deserve your graciousness?”

I smile reassuringly at him.

“You give me love,” I explain.  “You’re candid and tender and kind.  Maybe a part of me _likes_ that you’ve had such a rowdy past… You certainly know how to show me a good time…”

I lean over and kiss him.  When we part, he is smiling and gives me a wink.  He must be feeling reassured.

“Will you dance with me once you’ve had your drink?” He asks.  “I’m dying to show you off.”

I laugh softly.  “Yes, Ilya, I’ll dance with you.”

We finish our drinks, laughing and enjoying the sights and sounds of the tavern.  I tell him about all of the thoughts and feelings I had the first evening I spent in his company in the Rowdy Raven, how charmed I was by him, how I replayed the image of him kissing my fingers in my head over and over again, and how Portia caught me in the bath dreaming of him.  He laughs softly.

“I went back to Mazelinka’s much the same way,” he says with a laugh, “I kept hoping I’d see you again.  I wanted you more than I could make sense of…”

He leans over to kiss me and when we part, he tugs my hand up.

“It’s a bit sleepy here yet,” he says laughingly.  “Let’s wake these rapscallions up with a dance, Sevrina.”

Laughing softly, I follow him to an open space of floor.  There’s no dedicated dancefloor, so we stop in a vacant space in front of the band, who are playing an ambling melody.

“This won’t do!” Julian shouts laughingly, gesturing with both hands dramatically.  “I came here to drink and dance with the most beautiful woman in Vesuvia—Let’s get the blood pumping in this place, what do you say, you scoundrels?”

The band leader laughs, jovially hissing through his silver teeth and the group launches straight into a more upbeat tune.  Grinning brightly, Julian tosses his head so that his curls bounce away from his eyes, and holds out his hand to me.

“My Darling,” he says with an aura of theatricality, “May I have this dance?”

I take his hands in acceptance of his invitation, and he draws me into his arms, spinning me dizzily and laughing at the yelp he’s extracted from my throat.  I fall into step with him after I stop thinking so hard and just let my feet remember, and it isn’t long before other people get up from their seats and join in the frivolity.  Julian spins, dips and swings me in the air effortlessly, causing lots of whoops and whistles from the spectators.  It does my heart good to see him smiling and laughing so boisterously, so care-free, loud and rowdy.  We dance for several songs until we’re breathless, and Julian dips in for a kiss as a song draws to an end.

“I’ll get us some more to drink,” he says softly.

“I need to use the toilet,” I say as he lets me go. “Where is it?”

Julian points to a door at the back corner and I nod.

“Through there,” he says, “Ladies’ toilet is to the left.”

I smile.  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

I make my way past a few dancing couples and back through to the door as Julian orders our drinks.  I look to the left and see that the ladies’ toilet is vacant, so I head through.  When I’m finishing up and smoothing out my dress, I hear humming coming from outside of the stall.  Someone must be waiting for the toilet, so I try to hurry up.

When I step out of the door, I see the woman that kissed Julian outside.

“I’m sorry if you were waiting,” I say as I step out of the stall, feeling uneasy.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she says, grinning.  “My goodness, you were really kicking up a show out there—your hair is coming loose.”

“Oh, thank you,” I say softly, turning to the small mirror to adjust my hair.  “I hadn’t felt it slipping out.”

“Of course,” she says with a soft laugh that feels increasingly false.  “Although… you really ought to think about wearing it down, don’t you think?  It would be so much more becoming.  Spare us the sight of those scars.” 

I look up at her through the mirror, determined not to give her my dignity.

“I beg your pardon?” I say softly.  She has me boxed into the alcove.

“Is the front of you as revolting as the back of you?” She says maliciously.  “If not, I bet he insists on fucking you from the front, and even then, in the dark…. That way, he wouldn’t have to look at you.  Do you have to get him drunk to bear the sight of you at all?  It’s a good thing for you that Jules likes a drink… Such a shame, you could have been so pretty.  I mean, I’ve heard _love is blind_ , but fuck sakes.  You’re the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen.”

I try to stand tall as she comes up close behind me, and then she quickly pulls out the back of my neckline to peek down the back of my dress and see the extent of the scarring.  I turn around to face her head on, and she begins to laugh.

“Don’t touch me,” I say firmly.

“Oh Gods, who would want to?” She laughs, her chortling reaching a fever pitch.  “You’re absolutely disgusting.”

“You’re right,” I say, which shuts her up.  “My back is severely scarred and it’s shocking.  I’m sure you have much finer skin than I do, and I’m sure any man that visits your bed is delighted at the sight of you.”

She folds her arms and looks down her nose at me.

“But I have his heart,” I say, “And it’s _my_ bed he sleeps in every night.”

“Cunt!” She says, and spits at me, her saliva splattering my skirt.  I move her roughly aside with my magic, careful not to hurt her, but she’s startled enough not to say anything else.  I leave the toilets without looking back at her, my stomach twisting in upset, but I’m determined not to ruin the evening with Julian.

When I turn back into the tavern, I look for him at the bar, but he’s already made his way back to our little table, and he’s waving his long arm to catch my eye.  I can’t help but smile when I see him.  He’s enjoying himself.  No… I won’t say anything about Scarlet.

When I get to the table, he gestures to my cup.

“Same again, Darling,” He says with a smile. “I hope that’s alright?”

“That’s fine, Love,” I say, “Thank you so much.”

“Oh Sevrina, something’s gotten on your dress,” he says, and fishes his handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me.

I look down at the spit on my skirt and feign surprise.

“Oh goodness… I must have brushed against something,” I say, taking his handkerchief and wiping at it.  “This will have to go in the washing pile, tonight.”

“Oh, no washing tonight,” he says as I take my seat.  He leans close and puts his arm around me. “I’d thought perhaps we could take a nice long bath together when we get home to relax before bed...”

He nuzzles into my ear and whispers a few tempting suggestions for what might follow the bath, and I turn my head to kiss him, giggling.

We sit and enjoy our drinks, but I don’t feel talkative.  Julian doesn’t struggle to talk enough for the two of us, however, so I listen to his stories and he introduces me to those that stop by the table to welcome him back.  Although I try very hard not to give my attention and energy to her, I know that Scarlet is staring me down from across the tavern, trying to intimidate me.  I don’t want to spoil the evening for him, but after all this, all I want is to go home.

 

 

Julian entertains me on the walk home with stories about the tavern, dancing, drinking and music making, playing cards with the crones while they swooned over his handsome face, and tells me how much he would love to sing with me for the crowd.

“I’m excellent at duets,” he assures me as we approach the back door of the shop, “I’d love it if you’d show your voice off to everyone…”

I laugh softly as he turns the key in the door.

“I’ll think about it,” I say. 

He gestures for me to go into the shop ahead of him and we head up the stairs.  The flat is quiet.  When we come to the top of the stairs, I see a few dishes sitting on the worktop, and a note.

 

_Rina, we’ve had a long day with the market runs and readying the new house, and when we stopped for dinner, we couldn’t get started up again and decided to go to bed.  Thank you for cooking—I’m sorry I left the dishes.  I will wash them in the morning before we take our first wagon to the new house.  xx Morgana_

 

“Oh, they must be exhausted,” I whisper, showing Julian the note. “There’s not much here… I’ll just quickly wash these for them.”

Julian stands aside and I wash the few dishes as quietly as I can.  As I finish up, I can feel him as he comes to stand beside me.

“Are you alright, Sevrina?” he asks.  “You’ve been quiet for a little while.”

“I’m sorry, Ilya,” I say softly, drying my hands.  “Maybe I’m just not used to taverns, yet.  You know how anxious I can be… I felt a bit as if my defences were up and I’m just struggling to get myself to relax again.”

“Well, come here, Kitten,” he says with a note of mischief in his voice.  “Let me help you relax.”

He approaches me from behind and wraps a long, loving arm around my waist, using his free hand to sweep my hair away from my neck.  He kisses at my ear and down the side of my neck, pressing into me deliciously.  I lift a hand to the back of his head and curl my fingers playfully into his hair.  I can feel my breath thicken, his sweet, wet kisses down my neck are irresistible, drawing from me a soft sound of satisfaction .

“Mmm, yes, I’ll help you relax, Darling,” he promises again with a low chuckle.  “How about that bath, hmm?”

I laugh lowly and press backwards into him with a sigh.  He draws the arm around my waist up to fondle my breasts through my dress.  I love the way he touches me.  I love that he’s always hungry for me…

He pulls the neckline of my dress aside and kisses down the slope of my shoulder.  He kisses over the tops of my scars and suddenly, all I can think of are the cruel things that awful woman said to me in the toilets. I stiffen and I still his hands.

“Ilya,” I whisper.  “I’m sorry… I know I promised, but I need to stop…”

“Sevrina?” He asks, concern in his voice.  “Have I hurt you?  I’m sorry, I…”

“No, Ilya, it wasn’t you.”

“What is it?” He asks.  “I thought you were enjoying that…”

“I was,” I say softly.  “I just… I really don’t want you to look at my scars.”

Julian gently turns me around to face him.

“Darling, what is it?” He asks.  “Something’s clearly upset you.”

“What did you call her?” I ask, my eyes welling up, “Scarlet the harlot?”

Julian looks surprised, and then concerned.  “What happened, Sevrina?”

I tell him everything she said to me in the tavern toilets, admitting tearfully that she spat on me and explaining I didn’t say anything then because I knew how much he was enjoying himself and I didn’t want to spoil the night.  When I finish, Julian’s face is calm, but his eyes betray his anger.

“Sevrina, there is no truth whatsoever in what she said to you,” he says softly.  “You know that, don’t you?”

I don’t say anything, I only sigh.  Julian draws me into his arms and holds me close for a moment before pulling back to look at my face.  I can’t meet his eyes.

“The reasons I prefer loving you face-to-face are because I love your kisses and I love to watch your face when you peak.  It is more intimate for me that way.  It is nothing sinister, I swear on my soul.”

“It’s nothing to do with the scars?”

“Not remotely,” he says simply, lifting my chin so that I meet his gaze.  “Gods, your scars alone are more beautiful than she could ever hope to be…. Sevrina, don’t listen to her, she is dead wrong… That little bitch is so jealous of you because she knows how insignificant she is and what a wonder you are—Not just to me, but to this city!—And it just makes her ugliness shine through…. Gods, if I’d known she’d spat on you, I’d have had some words for her… I’ll stop in and speak to Barth tomorrow—He’ll tell her never to come back to the Raven.”

He draws me back against him, gently, and passes his hand over my hair.

“No one will ever spit on you again, Dearest,” He whispers.  “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He holds me quietly for a moment and then we hear a door opening.  Morgana steps out of her bedroom in a robe, rubbing her eyes, and pulls a cup from the dish rack on the worktop to fill with water.

“Sorry about the dishes,” she whispers groggily. 

“It’s alright,” I say, wiping my cheeks.  “I didn’t mind.”

“Are you crying, Rina?”

I sigh and Julian kisses my hair.

“There’s a South End prostitute that fancies me,” Julian explains as Morgana sips her drink.  “She was in the tavern tonight and was cruel to Sevrina about her scars.  She spat on her.”

“She _spat_ on you?” Morgana says with a mixture of shock and anger.  “She’s lucky I wasn’t there.  I’d kick that sow’s ugly face in!”

Neither Julian or I can repress a soft laugh.  Morgana takes my hand.

“What did the two of you do about it?”

I shrug.  “Nothing…. I’ve only just told him about it.”

“Rina,” Morgana says, shaking her head, “You need to learn it’s alright to speak up for yourself… I know you’re getting there, but you don’t deserve this.”

“I know,” I sigh.

She kisses my cheek.

“Are you alright, Rina?”

I nod.   “Don’t worry… Just you get some rest.  Ilya will cheer me up.”

Morgana laughs.  “Well, just you put a muting spell over your room, then,” she teases.  “Some of us need our sleep tonight.”

Morgana winks and walks  back to her bedroom, shaking her head with a chuckle, and then turns around to me again.

“In fact… I’ll just do a spell to keep our room quiet—have fun!”

“Morgana,” I laugh, a mock scolding tone in my voice, “For heaven sakes.”

She casts the spell teasingly as we watch her and then turns to walk away, laughing at her own cleverness.  When she is behind the door to her room again, Julian gently turns me to face him once more.

“My Darling, I want to make you feel beautiful again,” he whispers.  “Let me take away all of the ugly things she said to you and prove to you how wrong she is.”

“How can you make me forget it?” I ask softly.

“Sevrina, take off your dress for me,” he says.  “Lay on the bed on your belly.  Let me look at your scars.”

“Ilya,” I protest softly.

“Sevrina, please trust me.  Let me prove to you that you are beautiful.”

My chin quivers and he wraps his long arms around me.

“Darling, you have made it your mission to prove to me my worth in this world.  You must allow me to do the same for you.  Let me look at your scars.  Remember how I assured you when you first showed me.  Please allow me to do it again tonight and as many times after as you need.”

He draws back to look at me and smiles sweetly, stroking my cheek.

“You can trust me, Love,” he whispers.  “You know you can.”

I nod weakly and take in a breath.  I move from his arms and take his hand, guiding him through to the bedroom.  Julian uses magic to light the bedside lamp, and manages it on the second try.  He beams with pride and it makes me smile.

“Very well done,” I say with a grin, “You’re getting very good control over that spell.  I told you that you could do anything you set your mind to.”

“Yes,” Julian says with a nod, “And right now my mind is set on making you feel beautiful again.”

He opens his arms to me.  I close the door and step into his embrace.  He places sweet kisses into my hair and at my temples.

“Sevrina, I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, Ilya.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes.”

“Will you please take off your dress and let me look at your scars?”

I let out a shaky sigh and nod, not quite able to meet his gaze.  I untie my cord belt and then reach up behind my neck to unfasten the button at the back.  I pull my dress down over my shoulders and, still without meeting Julian’s gaze, let it fall to the floor.  When I’m naked, he curls his long fingers under my chin, and tilts my head up to meet his eyes.

“Dearest, don’t look so afraid,” he begs, “I can’t bear it… I would never hurt you… You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know,” I whisper, weakly nodding my head.

“Tell me how to assure you,” he sighs, “Sevrina, tell me what you need.”

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

“Oh, happily, Kitten.”

His lips are soft and supple, and the kiss is tender and lingering.  His breath is a touch heavier when we part, and he asks me softly to lay on the bed on my belly so that he can look over my scars.  I do as he asks, and he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking me over.  I do my best to look over my shoulder at him, trying to decipher his thoughts.

I wish I didn’t look like this.

“May I touch you?” he asks softly.  I nod my head and whisper that he may.  He lays his cool hand over my shoulder, and runs it thoughtfully over the surface of my scars, across both shoulders, all the way down my back and over the right half of my bottom.  I let out a shaking breath.

“Do they interfere with your sensation at all?” he asks softly.

“Only a little over the underside of my right shoulder blade,” I whisper.  “The scars are thickest there…”

“Here?” he asks, brushing his fingers over my skin.

“Yes.”

“Can you feel my fingers, or just the pressure of the touch?”

“I feel your fingers, but it’s as if it’s somewhat numbed.”

Julian makes a thoughtful sound and sweeps my hair to the left side.

“When I look at your scars, I see your survival,” he whispers.  “I see your resilience, I see your strength.”

“I see the discolouration,” I whisper, “And the unevenness, the puckering, the pain.”

“Oh, but the moon has uneven topography and is patchy in colour. You still find it to be beautiful, don’t you?”

“The moon is a heavenly body,” I challenge.  “I’m not.”

“Oh, I beg to differ, Little Rabbit,” he insists with a laugh.  “Yours is a _very_ heavenly body… And in your scars I see maps of all the ways I should love you… I see little wandering paths for my fingers to walk and for my lips to follow…  You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen; I swear it on my soul, Dearest…”

His ardent proclamations of love and his tender touch melt away my fears.  He presses testing kisses to my shoulder and, when I press into him with pleasure, he lies beside me, slowly letting his hands and lips wander the whole of my back.  I can feel his breath getting heavier, his kisses wetter as his mouth opens to taste my skin.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathes between kisses, “Sevrina, please believe me… Every time I look on these scars I remember the night in the baths at the palace, how gorgeous you were, how I burned for you…”

“Ilya,” I breathe.

“Every time I see you, I want you more,” he whispers, his breath hotly ghosting over my shoulders.  “I have never wanted anything the way that I want you… You know that I love you with more burning ferociousness than I ever knew a human heart could bear, but the lust I feel for you is still _lust_ , Sevrina—My body loves your body as you are, and it wants you…”

He’s becoming very aroused.  I can feel his erection pressed against my thigh.  As he continues to kiss me, he makes soft little _mmm_ sounds and it sends a ripple of aching through me.  My insides feel hot.  I crane my neck back to reach him and he meets my kisses with desperate hunger.

“Is this alright?” he breathes against my cheek.  My reply is only a low, throaty laugh and he responds in kind.

“Yes, Love,” I whisper, “I want you to prove her wrong and have me from behind…”

 “Oho, Sevrina,” he chuckles.  “I’d love to have you that way again…  You can tell me how you want it and I’ll kiss your scars the entire time….”

“Ilya, take off your clothes,” I purr.

“Mmm, yes, Love…”

Julian stands up from the mattress and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor.

“You know, you used to love it when I had you from behind,” he whispers, pulling off his boots.  “You’d want it that way especially when we had to go without for several days, and you liked it quite robust.  You always told me to hold your hips tighter, to give myself to you with more vigour…  You’d slip your fingers between your legs and rub yourself while I held your hips and thrust into you... Your hunger drove me wild…”

“Is it driving you wild now?” I laugh.

Julian chuckles as he kicks off his trousers.  “I can’t believe you need to ask me.”

He comes back to the bed and kisses me as he allows his hand to wander the curve of my bottom, tenderly trailing over the uneven scars there before pressing his palm into it hungrily.

“I don’t want to wait,” I whisper.  “I’m sure I’m wet enough…”

“Oh Gods,” Julian laughs, “I could just die….”

He kisses me again and positions himself behind me as I get up on all fours.  He presses sweet kisses across my shoulders as he lets his fingers take an exploratory first touch between my legs.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” he laughs, sliding in a finger and making me groan softly.  “You’ll _drench_ me.  My Gods…”

He bends over to kiss across my back again and I press backwards into his touch.

“You’re breath-taking,” he heaves.  “Oh Gods, I want you…”

I look over my shoulder at him.

“Then have me, Love,” I whisper, my aching audible in my tone, “Please, Ilya… We can go slower after, but I want you…”

He withdraws his finger and pulls me up onto my knees, turning my head to kiss me.

“I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers lowly.

“I love you, Ilya.”

“Are you ready then?” He says with a soft laugh.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” I tease.

He kisses me again and then pulls back and takes hold of his erection in his hand.

“Get comfortable,” he urges, one hand holding my hip, “And tell me how you want it….”

He runs the head of his member up and down over the place I open and then slides into me, his hands taking hold of my hips.

“Oh Gods,” I murmur.

“Oh, Sevrina,” he sighs, and lets out a wordless groan as he bends down again to kiss across my shoulders as he rolls his hips in and out of me. 

“Faster,” I whisper.  “Hold my hips tight…”

“Oh, Kitten, anything you say,” he whispers.  “I am at your service…”

The sounds he makes as he settles into a heartier rhythm are low and breathy.  I turn my head to look back at him and he bends down over me to kiss first my cheek and ear, then over my scarred shoulders.

“Command me as you please, my Darling,” he whispers hungrily.  “Please be selfish with me… I want to give you exactly what you want… I’m your slave…”

“Oh, don’t stop,” I heave, reaching my hand down to rub myself between my legs.  “Don’t slow down, it…. Oh Gods, Ilya…”

One of his hands comes around to caress my breast.  His hips keep bucking vigorously and he lets go soft, wordless cries against my back as he kisses over my shoulders.

“Tell me how it feels,” I whisper, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder again.

“So warm,” he gasps, “Tight… Oh Gods… _Ya tvoy rab_ , Sevrina…   _Vashe telo prekrasno…_ You… You’re beautiful ”

He bends to kiss my cheek again and then draws back to look over me while he continues to vigorously thrust his hips.  His free hand holds tight low on my hip, thumb pressing into the top of my buttock.

“You’re so beautiful,” he grunts.  “Sevrina…”

“More, Ilya,” I demand playfully.  “Give me more…”

He growls playfully and laughs into my ear.

“Gods,” he whispers hungrily.  “You make my head spin, Sevrina…”

He kisses my shoulders again and then both his hands return to sitting low on my hips.  His grip is firm and he lets out a low, hungry sound that melts into a mischievous laugh.  His hands roam fervently over my back and he whispers impassioned proclamations of love for my body, not least the scars covering the back of me.  I feel the sensation rising in me, a swell of delicious pressure making me whimper his name as the air begins to swirl with magic around us.

“Ilya,” I heave.

“Yes, Sevrina,” he grunts, “Fuck yes….”

I break over the edge and he bends his body back down to kiss at my ear as he continues to press in and out of me.  His breath hitches as I descend and I reach my hand up behind me to caress his hair.

“I love you, Ilya,” I whisper.  “Oh, Gods, I love you… I love you…”

“Sevrina,” he heaves, “ _Ya sobirayus'_ …”

His long arms fold urgently around me, pulling my back flush against his belly and chest.  He presses his face into my hair and I can feel his breath pass hotly over my ear.  His hips stutter and he whines softly into my ear, and he lets out a soft cry as he spends.

“Sevrina,” he breathes, hands fluttering over my breasts, “Sevrina, oh Gods…”

He clings to me as the wave of pleasure passes through him, and I feel the tension in his limbs go slack as a mischievous, purring laugher rolls through him against my ear.  He kisses my hair as we slump down onto the mattress together.

“Let me kiss you,” he breathes as he withdraws from me.  “Turn here, I need those lips…”

I roll over onto my back and he leans down to kiss my mouth.  His mouth is soft and he kisses me deeply, but briefly as we’re still catching our breath.

“How beautiful do you feel now?” He laughs softly.

I laugh lowly and smile up at him as he caresses my cheek.

“I feel very beautiful, Ilya,” I say lowly.

“Mmm, good,” he says, kissing me between panting breaths, “If you ever feel uncertain of yourself because of the scars again, think of the palace baths and think of tonight. If those memories give you no comfort, I will be more than happy to assure you again.”

He waggles his eyebrows and I laugh, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair.  He smiles down at me sweetly and makes a soft, contented sound as he presses his cheek into my hand.

“I wonder if Nadia would be alright with my starting the day late tomorrow,” he muses to himself.  “I just know I’m not going to want to leave this bed in the morning.”


	30. Sisters

The next morning, I rise early to pack a bag for Julian.  Tomorrow is Asra and Morgana’s wedding, and it is tradition in Vesuvia for unwed couples attending a wedding to spend the previous night apart.  Julian will stay tonight as Mazelinka’s, Asra will stay with his parents in the new house on the round street, and Morgana will stay with me above the shop for the final time.

I put Julian’s new clothes into a pack along with anything else he might need.  Once Julian has readied himself for the day, he is reluctant to leave the house and go to the clinic.

“I won’t see you until tomorrow,” he grumbles as he wraps his long arms around me.  “Coming home to you is the best part of my day and I’ll miss you tonight.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” I say softly.  “But it’s for good luck for the bridal couple.”

“Let’s find a priest to marry us today, then,” he teases, “Only the unwed couples attending have to part tonight…”

I chuckle and press myself into him, my cheek against his shoulder.

“I’ll be missing you, too, Ilya,” I say softly.  “But we’ll be together tomorrow for the ceremony, and we’ll sleep at the palace…”

“What will I do if I can’t sleep without you?” He whispers sadly.

I squeeze him tightly around the middle and he kisses the crown of my head.

“I’ve put a sachet of whitethisle tea into your pack to help you sleep,” I say softly.  “And the handkerchief I kept in my bodice yesterday—It should smell like my skin.”

Julian pulls back from me to smile.

“You’ve thought of everything,” he says laughingly.  “Such an attentive and thoughtful woman I have to love.”

He bends and kisses me, and when we part, he is smiling.

“I’ll miss you, too,” I say.  “But it will make seeing you tomorrow even sweeter.”

“I’ll make you a promise, then, Kitten,” he whispers as he caresses my cheek, eyes full of love.  “The next time we spend a night apart, it will be the night before _we_ wed, and you’ll need to give me a lot of whitethistle, because I will be so thrilled I’ll struggle to sleep.”

I giggle as I reach up to nuzzle his nose.

“I’ll make sure Mazelinka makes you that soup,” I tease.

 

After much cajoling and several _just one more kiss_ goodbyes, Julian heads out to the clinic.  With a lingering embrace ending in a passionate kiss, Asra takes both Faust and Prospero, and leaves for the palace to get his parents soon after, and Morgana and I are left alone to finish getting things ready for the wedding.  We chat a little over idle things before taking a walk to the market.  We put our shopping into my straw bag, buying ribbon and a spool of fine, easy-to-bend wire to construct the flower crowns.

“What flowers are you using?”  I ask softly.

“Purple wisteria,” Morgana says.  “It’s my favourite, and it will bring out his eyes.”

I smile and squeeze her hands as we head to the flower stalls.

“I’ll put a spell over the flowers to keep them vibrant,” I say decidedly.  She smiles giddily.

We finish at the market and return home to assemble the crowns.  We chat about little details as we make them until Morgana sighs softly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I just wish Mama and Baba were here,” She sighs.  “I wish they could have met Asra.  And Ilya, too.”

I feel my mouth form a frown.

“You remember them?” I ask.  “Asra told me they died when I was very young.”

She nods her head.  “Mama died having a third child… We were to have a younger brother the year after you were born, but they died together.  You were still a babe in arms, and I was nearly six… We lived with Baba in Goldgrave.  I can kind of remember the street, but not well.  Baba was a fisherman and when you were seven and I was eleven, he was killed in an accident at the docks.  The magic shop belonged to our aunt Gisela—Baba’s sister.  She took us in and we shared the room Asra and I have slept in.  When Aunt Gisela left for Prakra, she left us the shop, and you took her room.”

“I feel awful having to ask this,” I mutter softly. “But what were our parents’ names?”

She smiles comfortingly at me.

“Baba was Stefan, and Mama was Leonora.”

I nod my head.  It gives me some peace to hear those names.

“You took after Mama’s side,” she continues, “Dark hair and green eyes.  I look a lot like Aunt Gisela, so I must get the blond from Baba’s side.  Mama was a magician, and Aunt Gisela was, too, but Baba wasn’t… I just wish they could all be here.”

“They will be watching from the Realm Beyond,” I say softly, “And you will feel their love around you both tomorrow.”

“They would have loved Asra,” Morgana says with a smile.  “I know they would have.”

“How could they not?”  I laugh.  “He’s such a good and loving person, and when his eyes are on you, everything else disappears.”

Morgana smiles.  “And I love him more every day,” she says, “Even more because he kept my sister safe for three years.”

She reaches her hand over and squeezes mine.

“And I will be there for your wedding,” I say softly.  “And our family will be watching you alongside me.”

Morgana squeezes my hand again and smiles, many emotions at once in her eyes.

“Thank you, Rina,” she says softly.  “You have no idea what it means to me that you’re here with me.”

 

After a while, we have assembled two identical crowns of purple wisteria with sprays of thin, white ribbons to go down the back.  I ask Morgana over and over again if she is pleased with them because I want them to be perfect for her.  She assures me over and over that she is completely pleased with them, and then puts a spell over the flowers to keep them fresh.

It is a tradition in Vesuvia for a representative of the bride—Usually a mother or sister—To deliver the crown of flowers to the bridegroom along with a final love letter as an unwed couple.  It is also common for the couple to exchange colourful wearable tokens, be it a piece of jewellery, a scarf or some such decorative accessory to wear with their white wedding clothes.  Morgana goes into her room to compose her letter to Asra, and I begin prepping things for supper. After some time, she emerges excitedly with a sealed letter and a violet sash with coin fringe.  She is wiping her eye and smiling excitedly.

“It’s just hit me we’re marrying tomorrow,” she says softly, “Everything is sinking in…. We’ve got our lives back.”

She is laughing as she wipes her eyes and I go to embrace her. She laughs against my cheek.

“We’ve all fallen back together like we belong,” she says.  “And I’m not done fighting for your memories, Rina.  I’ll never get up on that.”

I kiss her cheek and draw back to look at her face.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” I say laughingly.  “You’re a bride tomorrow.  I know you want to help me with my memories, but you have memories to make tomorrow.  I want to talk about you tonight.  This is your time.”

She smiles and looks at the sash in her hands.

“Do you think he’ll like the sash?” She asks, “Or should I send another token?”

“He’ll love it,” I say.  “It’s vibrant and colourful and that’s exactly what he’ll be hoping for…. Is your letter finished?”

She nods.  “Everything is ready.”

“Then I should deliver the flower crown to the bridegroom,” I say excitedly.

 

When I return to my sister from the new house on the round street, she is cooking the meat and vegetables I prepared while she was writing. 

When I reach the top of the stairs, she looks up from the stove and smiles.

“How is he?”  She asks excitedly.

“He’s restless, but in the best possible way,” I laugh.  “Aisha compared him to a bee, just flitting from one task to the next all day, and he can’t wait for the wedding—He’s so excited to marry you.”

Morgana smiles and looks at the envelope in my hand expectantly.

“Oh!” I say with a laugh.  “I’m sorry.  Here’s your letter and your token from Asra.  You have a look and I’ll take over the cooking.”

Morgana laughs as she takes the envelope from me, and she scurries into the sitting room to sit and read it.  While I stir the food in the skillet, I watch as she curls her feet up under her on the couch and opens the envelope.  Asra’s lapis lazuli necklace falls out and into her lap, and she smiles as he looks at it—This must be her token.  She presses the stone to her smiling lips and unfolds the letter.  I watch as her eyes slide over the pages, and her cheeks go rosy with emotion as she reads this message of love until she laughs softly at the end and kisses the letter and then presses it to her breast. I feel my mouth curling into a smile.  When she returns to my side in the kitchen, her eyes are bright with unshed tears.  She sniffs them back and wipes her eyes laughingly.

“Was it sweet?” I say softly.  “Am I allowed to know what he said?”

Morgana laughs and nods her head.

“Do you want me to read it out to you?”

I nod my head and smile as I continue to stir the food.  She opens the letter again, smiling irrepressibly, and we share a giggle as she struggles to get started reading it through her excitement.

“Alright,” she says, settling her giggling nerves, “Alright, let me read it out…”

 

 

_Morgana,_

_Everyone keeps asking me if I’m nervous about tomorrow.  I don’t know how I could possibly be nervous when being joined to you in marriage is the thing I have wanted most for so long.  I have never been surer of anything in my life as I am about being marrying you… And I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am in knowing that tonight is the very last night we will spend apart._

_When I am with you, my chest is so light.  All of my troubles are far away.  You are such a beacon of light to me, and always have been, even in the darkest hours.  Being near you makes my world more colourful, makes me laugh harder and longer, makes my breathing deeper and my head clearer.  Our love is bright, joyful and explosive.  You challenge me and you argue your point and you make me think.  You have made my life worth living.  You make me the best I can be, because you deserve nothing less._

_Through the last three years, I have tried so hard to do right for you, but always I wondered if I was doing enough for you.  I kept counting all of the mistakes I felt I was making, and then when I would come to see you, your smile would lift that burden from my mind immediately.  You could always assure me, always soothe my troubled mind, always lighten my heart and heal all the aching and pain with nothing more than a smile or a touch.  Your strength and determination through these darkest hours far outshone my own, and it made me love you more than I ever knew I could love anything._

_I remember the moment I first told you I loved you—How unafraid I was to give my heart to you, how right it felt.  And I could feel in the brush of your hand and the dancing mischief in your eyes that you felt the same.  With you I have found what it feels like to be whole, I have learned what loyalty, tenderness, lust and love really mean in their most profound presence.  You’ve awakened all the wondrous parts of the world, of the body, the soul, the mind and heart for me.  And I am indebted to you for all of this._

_From the moment we met, I knew your aura was one that would be irrevocably linked to mine.  I used to daydream about all of the adventures we would have together, all the places we would go to together, but now I know that anywhere and everywhere will be an adventure with you.  And finally, our dreams of the future need not be dreams.  Our time is now, and into eternity.  I love you, Pearl.  I loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I will love you until the final breath this body takes in is exhaled.  But it isn’t enough to simply tell you I love you.  I am going to spend the rest of my life joyfully telling you all the reasons why._

_With all of my heart,_

_Asra_

Morgana wipes her eyes and then laughs before reading the final lines.

_PS:  Could we consummate our marriage in our special place in the cave?  Do you think our magic could get us there and back to the party unnoticed?  Do we care about raising eyebrows at all?_

 

 

We share a laugh over the closing to the letter and she gazes dreamily over it, smiling absently to herself as she fiddles with the lapis lazuli stone on the necklace.

“That was a beautiful letter,” I say softly.  Morgana looks up at me and smiles.

“Oh, I can’t wait,” she breathes.  “I swear if I don’t conceive a child on our honeymoon I’ll lose my mind… We’ve wanted to start a family for years…”

I feel my mouth twist when she says this.  They could have a few children by now if it weren’t for my memory loss. 

“No, no, Rina,” she says.  “That wasn’t what I meant.  I’m sorry.  Please understand… I’m so glad to have you here again, more than I can say.  It’s just our future is finally here, and I want to seize it with both hands.  You must understand that feeling, too—You and Ilya must feel the same.”

She comes to my side and puts her arms around me, kissing me on the cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.  “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way.”

“I know,” I say softly, “And I understand.  I am just so keenly aware of what you both sacrificed for me… I still feel guilty that I can’t remember... But even without my memories, I know you in my heart… I feel at home with you here.  I love you, sister.  You’re important to me and I don’t take your sacrifices lightly…”

“Rina,” she says softly.  “Is there anything I can tell you that would help?”

I look at her face a moment and then smile.

“In the spirit of your wedding day,” I say, grinning as I turn to fetch us plates, “I want to know the story of you and Asra.”

Morgana smiles and gathers cutlery for us.

“We were working in the shop with Aunt Gisela,” she begins, “And one day, she made a list for us and sent us into the market to pick up supplies.  I was almost eighteen and you were thirteen…  Anyway, Asra was operating a tent telling fortunes for travellers and he stepped out to wish a patron a safe journey, and I saw him.  I swear it knocked the breath from my body.”

Laughing, we take our dishes to the table, and I turn to the sink to fill us glasses of water to drink as Morgana continues.

“He saw me, too, and we smiled at one another,” she says, giddy in her remembering, “And he stood outside the tent waiting for an interested patron to pass by.  We dawdled… I was being overly particular of our shopping and he and I kept exchanging glances and smiling.  Eventually, we stepped nearer to the tent and I asked him what he was selling.  He said he was telling fortunes.  _You’re a magician, I can feel it,_ he said.  _Would you like your fortune told?  This one is on the house._   I smiled at him and said, _That depends if you’re in it._   He laughed hard and pulled back the flap of his tent, and ushered us inside.

“We took seats on cushions under the tent around a low table.  He sat down and asked who wanted their fortune first.  You pointed to me because you could tell I was so drawn to him and so he smiled and shuffled the cards.  He laid out three cards on the table, and turned them one at a time.  The first was the Ace of Wands, followed by the Two of Cups, and then The Lovers.  He told me that romance was on my horizon, but that it would be born of a deep friendship, and that the bond was lifelong.  He told me later that he had done a reading for himself that morning and got the exact same cards, so he was struggling not to show how flabbergasted he was when he turned them for me.  I told him that I thought it sounded like a very good fortune and that I looked forward to finding out how it would ultimately play out.  For you, he turned three Arcana—The Fool, the Chariot and the Devil reversed.  He said you were destined to maintain harmony, that you would do important things, but he couldn’t see what it was…. Now I know he was talking about what we’ve been through stopping the Devil…

"At any rate, we sat and talked to him a while and I insisted on paying for the readings because we’d kept him from bringing in paying patrons.  He said he was at the market most days and not to be strangers.  I went back alone every day that week, and he started to come visit us at the shop often.

“About a year later, Aunt Gisela decided to go to Prakra, and left us the shop.  She sent a letter a few months after that saying that she knew she didn’t have much time left and wanted you and I to remember her alive and healthy because she felt it would be less painful for us, as we’d lost both our parents so young… Asra started to tell fortunes at the shop a few days a week, and our friendship started to become something more.  One day when it was just he and I in the shop, we kissed for the first time… I was twenty-one, then, so we had been friends a few years—We knew each other well and trusted each other intensely.  We kissed often after that, and one day, he told me he wanted to show me something special.  He took me into the forest one day to the cave he spoke about in the letter…”

She smiles to herself a moment before continuing.

“It was bright and colourful,” she continues dreamily.  “When we were deep into the cave, We stopped by a reflecting pool and sat to gaze over it.  He asked to hold me and we kissed… And then he told me he loved me… I said it back, of course, and then we made love the first time…  The cave was a special place we would retreat to…  Some of his journeys while we were trying to regain your memories were only to the cave.”

“That’s beautiful,” I say softly, then smile mischievously.  “You should definitely go to the cave tomorrow after the wedding.”

We laugh together and continue to talk as we enjoy our meal.

“After we became lovers, Asra moved in here with us,” Morgana says.  “You were seventeen then, and expressed the desire to expand and fine-tune your abilities, so Asra took you on as his apprentice—I helped you as well, but he was a better teacher than I.  You worked under his tutelage for a few years, and then came a Masquerade at the palace… You declined the invitation for being too nervous.  That was the night I first met Ilya, so you should have come!  At any rate, Asra asked me to marry him on the bridge under the fireworks that night.  The following winter, people began to fall ill and Nadia asked us to the palace to help in the search for the cure.  Then you met Ilya, and you know the rest.”

We gather up our dishes and start to get the kitchen cleaned up for the evening.

“What was it like for you two at the palace?” I ask.  “I know Asra wasn’t keen on Ilya…”

“That’s an understatement,” Morgana laughs.  “We had a few… _Debates_ about Ilya.  Asra was really concerned he wanted to bed you and nothing more, but I knew.  I could see in his eyes how fiercely he loved you.  Asra just knew how innocent and soft-hearted you were and wanted to protect you…. You asked me for advice before Asra knew the two of you were together—You wanted advice about going to bed with Ilya and my Gods you put my advice into practice a lot quicker than I thought you would—If I’d have known Ilya was spending the night here with you that night, I wouldn’t have insisted on coming back here for my pendulum!  I knew you were staying the night here so just waltzed right into your room, and there you were, hair mussed and naked in Ilya’s arms!  I screamed!”

We’re both laughing loudly and Morgana wipes tears from her eyes as I wash the dishes. 

“I never saw anything too personal, but he was lying on his back and you were cuddled into his chest—The bedding was covering you both from the waist down and there were clothes all over the floor, and I just screamed.”

I laugh.  “Ilya told me you tried to buy us time but he said when we decided to face the music Asra’s expression was murderous.”

Morgana laughs again.

“He was furious, but you changed his mind when you told him about Ilya insisting he wasn’t worthy of you and then weeping afterward… Asra couldn’t deny that Ilya loved you, and he resolved that day to be accepting and welcoming of him.  He kept Ilya walking on eggshells for another month, though, just to entertain himself.”

Morgana and I step out into the living room and take seats on the couch together.

“You and Asra are so in tune with each other,” I say softly.  “Have you ever fought?”

Morgana shrugs her shoulders.

“We bicker a bit from time to time but I think it makes me love him more to know without a doubt our arms are always open for each other no matter what is annoying us.  But _fights_ , well… We had our one and only real fight after we brought you back.  It was only about a year ago.  The both of us were frustrated and becoming very afraid that you would never be able to handle the memories or my presence and we were running out of ideas on how to help.  Asra came to me in his gate and suggested we go to The Magician for guidance, and as I had found nothing to help in my magic books I was excited about speaking to such a knowledgeable being, hoping he would be able to unveil some new hope. 

“When we spoke to the Magician, he said, _When you lose something, you work backwards to find it._ His explanation frustrated Asra for being so vague, but it shook something to sense in me.  I knew you needed Ilya.

“When we left the Magician’s realm, I told Asra I wanted to find him and he was upset… We fought about it… Asra blamed your death on Ilya.  He said the entire predicament was his fault… He was absolutely against it and I told him I would do anything to get you back, and he said since he’d do anything to protect you, he would keep Ilya away.  I was angry with him, he didn’t understand me.  We fought, and I stormed off saying I had to try.  Asra went back to you and told me to call to him when I’d stopped being ridiculous.  I left the gate.  I went to the place between realms and I called for Scout.  She came to me and I asked her to help me to find Ilya.  She took me through the realm between and through the Hanged Man’s realm.

“It was difficult for me to navigate his realm… I’m thankful Scout was with me, she knew the way.  After trudging through the foggy marshes, we met the Hanged Man in the clearing by the lamp post.  He welcomed us, asked us to sit, said we were welcome to stay as long as we liked.  Scout shared bread and cheeses with us and after a few moments of rest, the Hanged Man said, _You are seeking someone._   I told him I was seeking the man my sister loved.  He said, _You seek the man your sister still loves, the man who still loves your sister, though neither know each other._   I asked him if that meant Ilya had lost memories of you and he said _Only in his mind.  Not in his heart.  He suffers with it every moment._ I didn’t understand what he meant at the time, but I didn’t press for explanation.  I just asked if he knew where I could find him.  He nodded, but explained that he would be difficult to reach because he wouldn’t know me, either.”

“Did you find him?” I ask.  “Does he remember this?”

“I did, and I doubt it… He was so drunk when I found him that I had to leave him a note to be sure.”

“Where did you find him?”

“Scout brought me through the realms and out of a fountain in the Floating City of Hjalle.  The fountain was not far from a tavern and my intuition guided me inside.  He was there.  I found him in a corner at a table littered with tankards, alone, sullen and so drunk he could hardly hold his head up straight.  I didn’t see the eye patch until I got closer to him… Since this place wasn’t the friendliest, and I knew Ilya was no stranger to trouble, I assumed he’d lost it in a fight.  I went to the bar and asked the barkeep what he was having.  I bought two and went to Ilya’s table.  I asked if he wanted another drink and he said yes.  I asked to sit with him and he motioned to the chair opposite him, saying nothing.  He looked hollow.  I called him by his name and he started.  He asked me if he knew me.  I told him he did, but he didn’t remember.  He looked confused.  I said I was a magician and he became furious.”

“What?” I breathe.

“He told me to get away from him,” Morgana continues.  “He said he wouldn’t speak to a _witch_ , and he used that word in a way that was meant to bite...  I told him I didn’t want money or anything from him and he calmed down.  I told him I knew that he was in pain and I wanted to help him...  He said he wanted to die and that I couldn’t help him.  I said that I knew who could.  When I said Asra’s name, it was very clear he hadn’t forgotten him.  His eye went ablaze with fury.  I said _I know there’s bad blood between you, but he has the answers you’re seeking and he will give them to you if you return to Vesuvia._   He stared at me in silence and blinked back tears.  I said, _Ilya, go back to Vesuvia and it will all make sense. You can heal.  She’s there._   He became upset and started to cry into his arms.  He asked me to leave, but I sat there a while longer.  He didn’t fight me.  I had paper in my pack and I wrote a note to him that said _Ilya, seek out Asra the Magician in Vesuvia.  He has the answers to all of your questions._   I knew if he came to Vesuvia he’d see you…. And I knew if he saw you, he wouldn’t stay away, and everything would begin to come together again.”

“What did Asra say?” I ask.

“Nothing.  He refused to talk about it much.  He assumed Ilya would drink himself to death and that was that… But he apologized.  He said he understood that I wanted to do everything possible to bring you your memories back, and that it was for he and I as much as it was for you.  He said he was wrong not to help me, and that he wanted to protect you, and that if Ilya did somehow make it back to Vesuvia, he would help… How exactly did it transpire that you saw him again?  I just know he came to the shop.”

“He broke in,” I laugh.  “He had a key to the back door—I’d given it to him when we were together before, and he crept into the shop—I was up late.  Asra had just left, and then Nadia had been there, and when Nadia left, he was in the shop with his doctor’s mask… He frightened the life out of me.”

“Good Gods,” Morgana laughs.  “I’d have thrown a bottle at his head!  What did you do?”

He wanted to know where Asra was and I told him simply that he was gone.  When he took off his mask, we got a good look at each other and I had a thrumming headache, but I was drawn to him…  He asked me to read his cards, asked me if we’d met before because I’d seemed familiar… And he was gone all too quickly—I remember chasing him to the door, wanting him to stay and not understanding why…  I gave him some harpweed for his headaches, and he was gone… I saw him in the market the next day, and though he smiled at me, he evaded me…  He was in my dreams every night… I met him a few times while investigating the murder…  He broke into the shop again.  He kissed my fingers… I wanted him.”

Morgana smiles.

“I knew if he saw you, he wouldn’t stay away,” she says.  “I knew your souls were bound too tightly for him not to be compelled to you…  I was with Asra the day you saw him through the palace fountain and asked about Ilya… Asra told me later how you said your heart remembered Ilya and I prayed to the Gods your heart would still know me…”

“It does,” I say softly, and she takes my hand.  She smiles at me before we lean into one another and sit in quiet for a few moments, hands clasped.

“Ilya will always take care of you,” Morgana says with a smile.  “Someday in the not-too-distant future, we will build flower crowns for you two.”

I squeeze her hand.

“But now it’s your turn,” I say softly.  “You and Asra waited so long.  Your forever finally gets to start, now.”


	31. Peonies

In Vesuvia, it is traditional for both bride and bridegroom to dress in white, symbolic of the purity of union, and with a garland of flowers on their heads.  I rise early and bathe, and let Morgana sleep in as I begin to ready her clothes for her, making sure everything is immaculate. 

Asra and Morgana are to honeymoon at Nadia’s seaside villa up the coast a few hours by carriage.  Nadia has arranged all manner of luxury for them and is sending one of her cooks as well as a footman and a housekeeper to assure they have every comfort.  They will stay for a fortnight before returning home to Vesuvia.  In that time, I will run the shop, and in a few days the palace sanctioned clinic will open.

I wake Morgana after I’ve drawn her bath.  She rubs the sleep from her eyes and smiles up at me.

“It’s two hours before we leave for the temple,” I say excitedly.  “What can I do to help?”

“Just my clothes,” she says, groaning through a stretch.

“Already taken care of,” I laugh, pulling the covers off her.  “Get up, sleeping beauty—You’re getting married today!”

While she bathes, I butter her a slice of pumpkin bread to eat before she dresses.  She tempers her excitement to keep herself cool, but it begins to twitter through once she is dressed.

Her bridal costume is a pure white chemise with trims of satin ribbon with knee-length breeches trimmed with matching ribbon. I help her fix the garland of purple wisteria atop her head and trail the spray of thin white ribbons down the back of her bobbed, ash-blond hair.  She clasps Asra’s lapis lazuli necklace around her neck as her token as I pin the crown of flowers to her hair—It will stay on top of her head until such time as the two go to bed together. 

“Does this look alright?”  She asks softly.

“You look so beautiful,” I say, putting a final hairpin into her wisteria crown.  “Asra’s heart is going to burst when he sees you!  Do you think he’ll cry?”

Morgana laughs and shakes her head.

“I don’t think he will… He’ll be emotional, but he won’t cry.”

I laugh softly and kiss her cheek.

“You’re a beautiful bride, sister.”

“Thank you, Rina,” she says.  “Oh, I can’t wait to see him.”

 “Are you nervous today?” I ask.

She shakes her head and smiles.  “No.  We’ve wanted this for a long time.  I’m so glad it’s finally happening.”

I squeeze her hands.  “I’m very glad I can be here to see you marry,” I say.  “Your love and affection for each other is a joy to witness.  I’m sure that my eyes will be wet enough for Asra and myself.”

We laugh and I step back to look at her.  Everything is in place.

“Go look in my long mirror,” I say excitedly.  “Tell me if you need anything else.”

I follow Morgana into my room and watch her smile brighten more and more radiantly as she takes in all of the details of her bridal clothes.  As she looks herself over, I take my mauve-pink dress out from the armoire and change into it. 

Morgana turns her head to see me while my back is still bare, and sighs softly to herself.

“I wish I could have healed those scars for you,” she says.  “I tried.”

I shake my head.

“None of that, Morgana,” I say softly.  “You and Asra brought me back to _life_. Don’t act like that wasn’t enough.”

Morgana nods.  “I just know how Asra said you isolated yourself…  He told me how you struggled, how you tried to make yourself invisible.”

I nod my head. “Ilya still finds me beautiful and that’s all that I need… I don’t think I’d change them if I had the power to…  He kissed all down my back when I first showed him… He’s compared me to the moon… He tells me he sees my strength reflected in them…”

She gives me a half-smile.  “Ilya doesn’t find you beautiful in spite of them—He thinks _they’re_ beautiful because they’re a part of you.”

I smile at her and nod, saying nothing. I pull my dress over my head and smooth my skirts down my legs.  Morgana fastens the two buttons at the top of the dress back, and smiles.

“We’ve got a wonderful pair of men, don’t we?” She says, and I smile as we embrace.

Just then, there is a knock at the door downstairs.  I look at Morgana and we both smile broadly.

“It’s time,” I say excitedly.  “Are you ready?”

She’s beaming, and so beautiful.

“More ready than I’ve ever been,” she says.

When we open the door it is a palace servant.  Nadia has come in a carriage and is driving us to the temple.  I see her face through the carriage window, smiling beautifully, the excitement in her eyes the only thing betraying her regal composure.

“My dear, aren’t you a vision,” she says as her servant opens the carriage door for Morgana.  “Your radiance is positively unrivalled!”

We step into the carriage and sit across from the Countess, who is looking over the details in Morgana’s bridal outfit with an approving eye.

“I dare say you’re the first bride I’ve seen dress so boldly,” Nadia says with a smile.  “Dare I ask why you’ve not chosen a gown?”

Morgana laughs.  “Asra is wearing one—I didn’t want to show him up on our wedding day.”

 

When we arrive at the temple, there is a very tall, broad man waiting patiently outside, holding cords for the hand-fasting.  He has dark cropped hair and is wearing a deep green shirt and loose, dark trousers.  There are two noticeable scars on his face.  When I disembark from the carriage, he glances at me coolly and then quickly away, as if he doesn’t want to see me.  Then, Nadia approaches him with open arms, and he bends to kiss her cheek in greeting before he hands her one of the cords.   He doesn’t smile broadly, but he seems happy to see her.

He seems… Somehow strangely familiar, but I can’t place it.

He also looks happy to see Morgana.  She rushes to greet him and he bends low to embrace her, lifting her off the ground briefly in his fierce embrace.  He strikes me as a man of few words, but as I near, approaching behind Nadia and my sister, I hear him tell her in a voice like a low roll of thunder that he’s missed her and that she looks beautiful.  When he stands to his full height again and he regards me, he looks uncomfortable, and glances around as if searching for someone else.

“Hello,” I say softly, extending my hand.  “I’m Sevrina… I’m Morgana’s sister.”

He only barely manages to murmur a reluctant hello back, and he doesn’t take my hand.  Morgana giggles and pats me on the shoulder.  He sends a searching glance to Morgana, who smiles at him.

“Is _he_ coming?” the large man asks her.

Morgana nods her head and chuckles.  “Yes, Muriel, he’s going to be here.”

Muriel… I know that name, don’t I?

Muriel rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh.

“Asra’s inside,” he says shortly, and then he hands my sister the last two cords and turns his back on us to go into the temple.  Nadia follows at his side, chatting happily as if he is an old friend.

I look at Morgana, feeling my brow pinching in confusion.  She laughs at me.

“His name is Muriel,” she says softly.  “He’s a very dear friend of ours.”

“I knew him?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” she says with an air of astonishment.  “Did you recognize him?”

“I think so, a little… Who is he trying to avoid?”

“Ilya,” Morgana laughs.  “You can see that social interaction isn’t Muriel’s strong suit, but Ilya is just way too much for him—Muriel can’t stand him.  You know how Ilya tries so hard to charm everyone, but he just doesn’t respond.”

“Who am I trying to charm?”

Julian lays a hand on my shoulder and I turn my head to see him smiling, dressed in his new white shirt and waistcoat with his dark trousers and tall boots.  He looks very handsome and greets me with a kiss. 

“Look at you, Ilyushenka,” I whisper.  “Oh, you look very fine.”

“Thank you, my Little Sparrow,” he says. “But you, Dearest… Oh, if you could only know the feats of acrobatics my heart is doing at the sight of _you_ ….” 

Laughing softly, I meet his mouth for another quick kiss.  When we part he turns his attention to Morgana and beams.

“Ah, Morgana,” he says sweetly, dipping in to kiss her cheek, “What beauty runs in your family.  Aren’t you a vision of splendid loveliness!  A more beautiful bride, I’ve truly never seen.  Asra will be utterly dazzled.”

Morgana embraces him happily and smiles.

“Oh, Ilya, you schmoozer,” she laughs, “You just keep the flattery coming.”

We share a collective laugh and Julian looks at me. 

“Is everyone here that is attending?”

“Yes, now that’s you’re here, we’re ready,” Morgana answers with a smile.  She takes a deep breath and exhales excitedly, handing Julian and I the cords.  “You two head in.  The bride is meant to enter last, you know.”

I reach out to squeeze her hands and kiss her cheek.

“See you inside,” I say softly.  “You look perfect.  I love you, sister.”

She kisses my cheek.  “And I love you.”

 

When we head inside the temple, I immediately see Asra in a sweeping gown of shimmering white, with Morgana’s violet sash tied around his hips.  He is chatting with his parents, Nadia and Muriel, and he looks very excited and happy.  The Friar is blessing a dish of water at his pulpit, preparing for the ceremony.

Muriel looks up from the conversation as we enter and rolls his eyes, shifting his weight to stand slightly behind Nadia.  Asra looks over at us and smiles broadly, stepping over to us with open arms, the coin fringe on the sash jangling with his spirited step.

“Sevrina, oh you look lovely, Sister,” he says with a smile as he embraces me.  “And Ilya, you look fantastic, too… thank you both for coming.”

“I did try to smarten up for the occasion,” Julian says with a laugh.

Asra kisses the both of us on the cheek and then looks to me, his eyes shimmering with excitement.

“She’s outside, then?”

“Yes,” I nod. “And she’s so beautiful.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he says softly.  “I can’t wait to see her.”

Julian keeps casting glances to Nadia and Muriel, who seems to be trying to hide behind her.

“Who’s the big fellow?” Julian asks softly.

Asra laughs.  “Don’t try to get too friendly, Ilya, he doesn’t like you much.”

Julian’s eyebrows screw up in confusion.

“What?  I don’t even know who he is!” He says with a flustered laugh, “How can he dislike me?”

Asra laughs to himself.  “You don’t remember, but you’ve met him.  He isn’t much for social settings.  He’s kind of the strong silent type…. Your energy level and extroversion are just a bit much for him to handle.”

“Well, Sevrina thinks I’m charming,” Julian mutters softly.

Asra laughs.  “Don’t take it personally, Ilya, he’s had a hard time of things.  He doesn’t like _most_ people.”

I pat Julian sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Where should we stand?” I ask softly.  “When will Morgana come in?”

Asra smiles.  “I’ll send the Friar for her now.  You stand over here.”

Asra guides Julian and I to standing off to the side, about ten feet from the pulpit, and then turns to Nadia and Muriel to do the same on their side, alongside Asra’s parents.   Asra then goes to the Friar and asks him to bring in his bride.

 Julian smiles down at me and winks, then presses a sweet, soft kiss to my forehead as the Friar bustles out the back of the room.  A moment later, the door opens again, and Morgana strides in ahead of the Friar.

Nadia begins to applaud, and the rest of us follow suit.  Asra’s expression is one of delight and warmth, and his eyes glisten.  Morgana gives him a cheeky wink as she approaches. The Friar joins their hands and gestures for them to kneel together at the altar.

Julian moves to stand behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders.  I reach up a hand cross body to touch his.  Although facing the Friar, Asra and Morgana keep glancing over to each other excitedly.  Their energy fills the room with a palpable joy.

“Welcome,” The Friar says, a smile of delight sitting on his chubby face.  “Today we are here to celebrate the love of Asra and Morgana, and to bear witness to their decision to marry in the presence of the Gods.  Love is a miraculous gift, and we are here today to share in their magic and celebrate their commitment.  Those of you who are here today with them are invited to give your blessings to their union.  Do you so bless it?”

“Yes, we bless this union,” we all say together.  Asra and Morgana smile at each other.

The monk takes up a bowl of water and holds it between them and above their heads.

“This water is symbolic of the blessings of those gathered here today,” He says, “That joy and growth should make home in your hearts forevermore.”

The Friar dips his fingers into the water and flings a spray of droplets first over Asra’s head, and then Morgana’s.  Both stifle a giggle while enduring the tickling droplets and I can see their shoulders softly shaking with the repressed laugh.

Julian’s hands find my waist, and he bends to kiss the crown of my head.  I wrap my arms around myself to keep my hands on his.  The monk then asks Asra and Morgana to stand and turn to face one another, and asks them to repeat vows to one another, line by line.

 

_In the presence of our loved ones,_

_I join my soul to yours and yours alone._

_For you, I shall be shelter, friend and aid._

_I offer my loyalty, love and constancy._

_Lies will never spring from my lips._

_I will support you through changes and hardships_

_And delight in the sound of your laughter_

_For all the days of my life._

_I entrust my heart to you for always._

 

The monk then produces a small ceremonial blade, and asks Asra for his hand.  He carefully cuts the pad of his thumb to bring forth a small bloom of blood, and then asks Morgana for her hand to repeat the act.  Neither flinch or grimace as they are cut.  The Friar then presses their wounds together, and wraps their hands in a length of red, shimmering cloth.

“The rarest of bonds is in joining the blood,” the Friar says.  “Now that your blood is joined, no force, earthly or otherwise, can break your attachment.  Now you are two bodies with one blood.  Two people with one heart, one life…  And now I invite your guests to bestow their blessings on your union.”

The first to approach are Asra’s parents.  Aisha is holding Faust and Salim is holding Prospero.  Aisha’s blessing is for them to find strength in one another always, Salim’s for finding comfort in one another.  They drape their cords over the couple’s hands one by one, and then allow the serpents each to press their noses to the couple’s joined hands in a silent blessing.  Muriel approaches next, and tells them his wish is for them to always make time for quiet meditation together in order to keep their bond strong, then he lays his cord across their hands with the others.  Nadia approaches next and tells them that her wish is for them to always have passion, then adds her cord.

I motion Julian ahead of me, and he tells them his wish is always for their home to be filled with laughter.  I smile as he lays his cord with the others, ever so gingerly, then returns to our place, and I step forward with my cord, and regard my sister and Asra, and take a breath to keep my voice from catching.

“My wish,” I say, “Is that nothing should ever force you to put your life together on hold, that you will never spend a night apart and that for all the days of your lives, your love will know the wholeness you waited so patiently for.  I love you both.”

I lay my cord with the others and return to Julian’s side, somehow still supressing the lump in my throat, and a strange feeling passing over me as I watch them together.  Julian places his hands once more at my waist, and I cross my arms over myself to lay my fingers over his.

The Friar ties the cords together, binding their hands as he keeps giving his blessings, but I can’t stop looking at their faces.  The way he looks at her, the way she looks at him… I know those glances, those blushing cheeks, the warm smiles they exchange, their dewy eyes as they well up in tears of love as they make their bond a union—I feel as if this moment mirrors the moment they told me they’d become betrothed… I _recognize_ it.  It’s as if I have the faintest glimpse of a memory, but that can’t be…

Can it?

They are beautiful.  I have never seen such love in a gaze as I do between the two of them.

Except, that is, for in Julian’s eyes.

My eyes well up with tears and I quietly sniff.  Julian takes one of his hands away from my waist and produces a handkerchief, handing it to me wordlessly before placing his hand at my waist again and kissing the crown of my head.  I wipe my eyes and try and settle my emotions as the Friar pronounces Asra and Morgana as united in marriage.  They kiss, and Asra lifts Morgana from the ground, spinning her giddily.  We all cheer and applaud except for Muriel, who claps his hands quietly with a slight smile.

Julian wraps his arms around me fully and leans over my shoulder to whisper into my ear.

“I could feel you tremble,” he says softly.  “Are you alright?”

I press my cheek into the kisses he gives me and smile.

“Yes,” I whisper.

 

 

Outside the temple, Muriel bids Asra and Morgana farewell—I hear him say that there are just too many people before shooting a pointed look at Julian, who obliviously chats to Nadia, and wishes them a happy honeymoon, saying he will see them when they return.  Muriel keeps glancing at me although he seems to want to hide at the same time.  And then a feeling or thought... A _vision_ comes to me.  I remember the same look when I apologised to him for entering his home with Julian.

I remember being in his hut… The storm, the pile of furs in front of a fire… The wounded wolf—What was her name?  Julian healed her and then she slept in front of the fire…  I remember him telling us that Julian was innocent.  And somehow, I remember that I’m not supposed to be able to remember this.

I suddenly feel a surge of warmth inside me, as if I’m recognizing an old friend, and I slip away from Julian’s side unnoticed to join them as they talk, and Muriel gives me a stormy glance, as if he doesn’t want me to approach.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I say sheepishly.  “I just wanted to say to you, Muriel… Thank you for telling us that Ilya was innocent… We couldn’t have gotten through all of this without your help.”

Muriel’s eyes go wide and Asra laughs delightedly.

“Sevrina, do you remember him?”  He asks excitedly.

“I somehow do,” I say softly.  “I know I’m not supposed to…”

“Muri, maybe the spell is letting her remember, now,” Morgana says. 

“I don’t remember knowing you, yet,” I say apologetically.  “But I want to.”

Muriel averts his eyes awkwardly, an embarrassed blush creeping across his cheeks as he purses his lips.

“You’re welcome,” he says softly, and then rolls his eyes.  I understand why when Julian lays his hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, Darling, are you making friends without me?” He says with a laugh, then extends his hand to Muriel.  “Hello, I’m Julian—It’s nice to meet you.  Any friend of Asra’s is a friend of mine.”

Muriel stares stone-faced at Julian for a moment and I can see Morgana trying to supress a laugh into Asra’s shoulder.  Julian awkwardly withdraws his hand, and I put my hand comfortingly on his arm.

“Ilya, this is Muriel,” I say softly.  “You’ve met before, but there’s a spell keeping you from remembering… He’s the one that told us you were innocent.”

“Oh? I…” Julian stammers, wide-eyed.  “Then I am indebted to you.  Thank you.”

“And yet you s _till_ turned yourself in,” Muriel grumbles.

Julian’s cheeks burn pink.

“I…Well… It wasn’t the best tactic, I admit, but I had good reason,” he says.

Muriel dismisses it and turns his attention to Asra and Morgana.

“Enjoy the trip,” he says.  “I’ll see you again when you get home.”

He embraces Asra and Morgana, one in each arm, and they both kiss him on the cheek.  Then Muriel casts a glance to me, and reaches out to pat the top of my head ever-so-briefly.

“Take care of yourself,” he says lowly, and then turns and trundles away.  My intuition tells me this is no small gesture.

 

 

At the palace, Nadia has left Portia in charge of preparing a wonderful, intimate reception in the dining room.  Fine food is piled onto a banquet table with attentive servers, a quintet plays on a small stage in the corner and a space has been cleared to make way for dancing.  When we walk into the dining room, Portia bustles to Nadia’s side excitedly and greets us.

“Dinner is ready when you are!” She says, then rushes to greet Asra and Morgana to offer her congratulations.  Julian has a dreamy half-smile on his face all through dinner, swept up in the joy and romance of the day, and though I’m happy as can be, my mind keeps turning back to these visions—These fragments of memory, or is it my imagination—And wondering what they mean.

We sit and talk, the lot of us, at one long table over dinner.  While we wait for dessert to be served, Nadia excuses herself to check in with Portia, who is chasing up the cake.  Morgana tugs at Asra’s sleeve beckoning him to dance, and they rise to step over onto the dance floor.  Aisha and Salim follow and do the same, and then it is just Julian and I at the table.  He scoots his seat up right next to mine and draws his arm around me, pulling me in against his shoulder.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers into my hair. “I know you’re not the bride today, but I can’t take my eyes off you… I feel like… Gods, I can’t put words to it.  You’re exquisite and I am the luckiest man in the world to be at your side…”

He whispers these romantic sentiments to me between kisses at my hair and hands.  I watch contentedly at the way he winds his long fingers through mine, the way he curls his thumb into the palm of my hand to swirl in small, affectionate circles.

“I never thought I’d know happiness like this,” he whispers.

“Neither have I,” I reply.  “I thought my life would be lonely forever…  Then some hidden memory made you return to my shop…  I knew the moment you took off that mask and I saw your face everything would change.”

“And once I got a look at you in the low light, I knew, too,” he says.  “I didn’t want to leave you that night, or ever again… But I couldn’t have told you that, then… I’d have frightened you…”

“I was frightened,” I whisper, “But I don’t know exactly why… I wasn’t afraid of _you_ … I was captured… I wanted you nearer.  I was frightened of myself, a little, I suppose… But never of you.”

 “Even though I’d broken in?” He asks.

I laugh softly.  “You startled me initially, yes… But once I saw your face, no.”

“What about when I’d broken in the second time?” He asks with a laugh.  “You didn’t seem happy about it.”

“I got over it,” I laugh.  “The moment you asked me to search you, all I was able to think about was touching you… I spent the night before dreaming of you after seeing you at the Rowdy Raven.”

“I wanted to kiss you at the tavern,” he whispers. 

“I wouldn’t have resisted,” I laugh.

He tightens his hold on me, and turns his head to press his lips to my forehead.

“I love you, Sevrina.”

“I love you, Ilya.”

The quintet wraps up a song and Julian sighs dreamily.

“Would you mind if I asked to play with the band?” He asks softly.  “Just a little.”

“Not at all, Love,” I say.  “It’s a joy hearing you play…. Did you used to play for me often?”

“Yes,” he says.  “And I’d do all I could to coax you into singing.  You were angelic.”

I sit up straight to let him rise from his chair.

“Just a tune or two,” Julian says, rising from his chair, “The day has been so romantic that I simply can’t resist the pull of music.”

He kisses my hair and I smile up at him, giving his fingers a squeeze.

“I won’t be too long, Kitten,” he says, “And then we’ll dance until bedtime.”

I nod and smile up at him lovingly.  “That’s a wonderful plan, Love.  Go on, then.”

He grins brightly and bends in for another kiss before walking to the stage.  He chats a moment with the quintet and then is handed a vielle with a smile.  Julian takes a seat and draws the bow across the strings, shooting me a quick wink before turning back to the quintet and launching into a soaring melody.  A few bars into the song and his eyes have shut in ecstasy of the sound, and he begins to sway back and forth in his chair to the swell of the music. 

The same strange sensation takes me over as during the ceremony—The feeling that I’m on the edge of a memory.  It feels familiar, as if I’ve seen him play like this before dozens of times… I see his hair and face lit by sunshine, his eyes closed as he sits on the lip of the fountain in the garden playing for myself and a large, copper-coloured dog with one quirked-up ear …

It seems so strange that these images should be in my mind.  I don’t yet know what to make of them…

For a moment I sit alone, watching Julian play with the quintet, captivated by his graceful movements.  Morgana and Asra are dancing, gazing at one another with such deep affection and tenderness that they must be oblivious to all else around them.  My eye falls back to Julian, watching his fluid movements as he sways back and forth in his chair in time with the music.  I am enraptured, watching his long fingers skilfully glide up and down the neck of the vielle, his eyes closed in the delight of the swell of music.  I sip my drink and watch him contentedly, my heart full, when I feel the touch of a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“He’s very elegant, isn’t he?”

Nadia takes a seat in the chair beside me, smiling.

“Oh yes, he is,” I whisper, smiling.  “He’s so captivating, my heart just….”

I sigh, unable to put my thoughts and feelings to words.  We watch him together for a quiet moment and Nadia leans over to whisper to me.

“With the way he’s been looking at you all night, I’d not be surprised if you were soon a bride, Sevrina.”

I smile and look at my hands in my lap.

“He will ask me,” I whisper.  “But not yet.  He has the memories back and I don’t.  He wanted me for a wife then, and he does now, but he won’t ask until he feels it won’t overwhelm me… the last month has been such a whirlwind.”

“That’s probably the most sensible choice he’s ever made,” Nadia says teasingly.  “I remember him being quite impulsive those few years ago when he was friend of the palace, one that enjoyed attention and filling a room with excitement and laughter, but he was also always exceptionally loyal and immensely generous of himself.”

I look at her seriously.  “I thought you had lost memories of that time.”

Nadia nods her head.  “I have.  I confess I can’t remember everything.  But Asra told me that you were here with him in the time of the plague… I didn’t know you were in my missing memories, Sevrina.  I have pieces missing out of a larger picture of memory.  I cannot remember knowing you, much to my embarrassment and vexation, but I do remember the Doctor, and I do remember how in love he was…. I’m glad with all of my heart that he’s found you again.”

“Thank you, Nadia,” I whisper.  “Thank you for everything.”

She pats my hand and smiles, and we watch Julian play in quiet for a moment before she speaks again.

“Dare I ask, Sevrina,” Nadia asks with a wicked smile on her lips, “Just as a little affectionate prying between friends, if you and the Doctor… Shall we say… Made use of the night clothes I gave to you?”

“We were so exhausted we only slept that night, Nadia,” I say, laughing softly, “However, we made very good use of the bath.”

Nadia laughs more unreservedly than I’ve ever seen her, and reaches up to pat her hand on my shoulder and we exchange a look before returning our attention to watching Julian play.

“Good,” she says.  “I think you both needed it.  I swear the air was about to catch fire around you both.”

“What about you?” I tease.  “Perhaps you will be my sister someday, too?”

Nadia smiles absently.

“My former handmaiden left to return to Prakra before the plague swept the city… She had married and wanted to start a family so I sent her away home with blessings.  I still get a letter from her on occasion—she has three children, now—her firstborn and then a set of twins…  At any rate, the chamberlain encountered Portia in the city and was impressed by her spirit, and offered her the job.  She was in the palace for a few weeks before I really felt a connection with her.  She was very attentive to me when I had a spell of headaches, and even procured Nevivonian salts for me to relax in a bath with.  I started to ask her questions about herself.  She warmed my heart with her gentleness.  I learned of her love of gardening.  Once she was comfortable talking with me, her sense of humour came out, and Gods, she makes me laugh until my eyes are full of tears—and she takes such pleasure in doing so.”

“She’s much like her brother in that sense,” I whisper, gazing dreamily at Julian’s playing. 

“Yes… She and I formed a familiarity, and I saw how hard at work she always was,” Nadia continues, “So I gave her the cottage at the top of the palace grounds.  I thought it would be a place she could retreat to and call her own.  I visited her there and would sit with her in the garden, play with the cat.  One day I went to see her and I don’t know what it was that made it happen, but I kissed her.  I kissed her and I didn’t want to stop, but I had to keep my composure.  We sat in quiet there on her little couch… I stroked her hair and we kissed.  There was nothing about it that was overly lascivious, but it certainly wasn’t _friendly_ … I told her I cared for her very much.  We had a few afternoons like that…. She is caring, thoughtful, smart as a whip.  She has a fiery, fighting spirit and a giving heart.  She is strong, and she is beautiful… All of these things make me love her.  And she can be quite a wicked little thing in private.”

I laugh softly.

“Julian wears his wickedness brazenly on his sleeve,” I say softly, lifting my glass from the table.  “I always know if it’s on his mind… He has no shame with me.  Sometimes I think it might be fun to flabbergast him somehow, just to see his cheeks blush, but I don’t know how I’d go about it.”

“Tie him to your bed,” Nadia suggests with a smirk.  I nearly spit out my drink, which causes her to laugh. 

“What makes you suggest that?” I ask laughingly, remembering the vines in the Hanged Man’s realm.

“I’ve a feeling he’d be exceedingly compliant,” she says measuredly.  “I can sense in him a… A _longing_ to serve you, shall we say?  He wants so badly to please you, doesn’t he?”

The heat prickling in my cheeks is all the answer she needs.  She smiles.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend, I assure you I mean no harm,” she says as she pats my shoulder laughingly.  “Does he use words like _worship_ and _adore_ when you’re in your bedroom?  Does he call to the Gods in praise of you?”

I cover my mouth and laugh and Nadia looks satisfied that she’s uncovered some hidden secret.

“He babbles in Nevivonian, though I can’t understand a word,” I chuckle softly.

“Ah yes—Portia does it, too,” Nadia laughs, “Although I’m fluent… I just talk right back to her in it.  I could teach you some useful phrases that would come in handy with him.”

I shake my head with a laugh and turn the conversation back to Portia.

“When was your first night together with Portia?” I prod.  “A little affectionate prying between friends?”

 “The night before the Masquerade,” Nadia sighs dreamily, “And _many_ times since.  I swear I can hardly give a thought to a thing that isn’t her lovely hips the last fortnight—I had to apologise to Consul Valerius at a meeting a few days ago—He said it seemed my head was in the clouds, though in my imagination it was between her legs.”

We share a mischievous laugh and Julian finishes a song.  We applaud as he hands the vielle back to its owner, and he turns to return to my side.

“Countess,” he says sweetly, “What a beautifully intimate party you’ve arranged—We’re enjoying ourselves immensely, aren’t we, Sevrina?”

I nod my head.  “Everything is wonderful, Nadia.”

Nadia smiles at me before casting her eye to Julian.

“I’ll host another party like this, soon, I expect?”  She laughs.  “One with a dark-haired bride?”

He blushes, but quickly recovers.

“Oh, how I wish it were tomorrow,” he breathes, “But for tonight, I’ll need to be contented with a little dancing…”

“Not before I dance with my Sister, first, Ilya,” Asra says jovially, “I know once you two start you won’t stop until you’re ready to go to sleep!”

Julian nods.  “Of course, Asra.  Morgana, may I have the honour of dancing with the beautiful bride?”

My sister laughs and nods.  “Oh, I couldn’t pass up the chance to dance with the Pirate Doctor of Nevivon!”

Julian smiles and leans forward to kiss me.

“I’ll catch you back from that scallywag soon, Darling,” he laughs, “And then I will dazzle you and only you for the rest of the night.”

He kisses me sweetly and when we part, turns to my sister and spins her off the ground en route to the dance floor, making her squeal.  As we all laugh, Portia returns to Nadia’s side.

“The cake should be out soon,” she says, an air of exasperation in her voice.  “I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”

“Don’t worry,” Asra chuckles, “We’re having a fantastic time, Portia.”

“You’ve done beautifully, my Heart,” Nadia says, patting Portia on the elbow.  “Relax a little.  Sit with me and we’ll watch all the others dance.”

Portia smiles sweetly and takes her seat next to Nadia, who draws her into her arm.  Asra takes me by the arm and grins.

“Care to dance with me, Sister?” He asks, eyes bright with joy.

I nod my head.  “Of course, Brother.”

Asra leads me to the dance floor and takes my hand.  I place my other on his shoulder, he places his at my waist, and we fall into step together.

“Your joy is palpable,” I say with a smile.  “You and Morgana have been a joy to watch today.  My heart feels so full.”

“Thank you, Sevrina,” Asra laughs, “We’ve waited so long… I’m so glad we’re finally married.”

“And your ceremony was beautiful,” I add.

“Thank you,” Asra laughs, “Even Muriel said so… I’m stunned that you remembered him—I think it means a lot to him that you did.”

“I wish I could remember more,” I say quietly.  “Was he a big part of my life, then?”

“He was as much a brother to you as I,” Asra says, “Though he wasn’t thrilled that I brought you and Morgana to visit at first… I was living with him when we met, and telling fortunes in the market.”

“Yes, Morgana told me the story of how you met,” I laugh, “Your matching card readings and all, how you fell in love… She didn’t tell me about Muriel, though.  How did you meet him?  How did we come to know him?”

“Will Ilya let me dance with you long enough to tell you?”  Asra laughs, “He is already glancing over with a pleading eye!”

I laugh.  “He’ll have to beg a dance from Nadia or Portia, then—He’ll understand.”

Asra chuckles mischievously and then takes a breath.

“To make a long story short, he and I met as children—We were both on our own down at the docks.  I was nine when I met him, and he was thirteen… Eventually, Lucio caused us problems and essentially enslaved him, saying he would harm me, and since I was his only friend, he felt trapped… Lucio used him as a gladiator called The Scourge of the South… Eventually, Muriel escaped his bondage with my help, and we built a hut deep in the forest… I was living with him there when I met you and Morgana.  Once I befriended you both, I wanted Muriel to meet you, but he was resistant to letting others into his life.”

“Understandable, after all the pain he endured,” I say softly.  “Poor Muriel… What did he do?”

“Well, after the initial introductions, he took Inanna and disappeared into the woods, but you both wanted to befriend him—Morgana knew his importance to me and you could sense his soft heart.  Things went much the same way for the next few visits, but I convinced him to give you myrrh pouches—In time, you were able to remember him without them—Anyway, Morgana had a brilliant idea and you brought some fresh eels one day—I’d told Morgana that smoked eel was his favourite, so you brought the fish and cooked them at the hut.  Muriel and Inanna followed the smell back to the hut, and with a little cajoling we got him to eat with us.  The next time you came, Morgana cooked eel again and you had baked a lemon cake—He developed quite a taste for those cakes.”

“I’ll make him another, then,” I say decidedly, “Though I’m not sure I would be able to find my way to him on my own.”

“We will take you to see him when we’re home again,” Asra suggests. 

“I would like that… Please go on,” I urge.

“Well, Morgana won him over because she was vocal about her dislike for Lucio,” Asra chuckles, “She was always joking about ways we could employ magic to irritate or inconvenience Lucio for our amusement.  But Muriel warmed to you because of your quiet, introverted nature—You never pressed for conversation if he wasn’t interested in talking, and you never asked about his scars.  You were only thirteen when he met you, and you said you felt safe with him.  Sometimes he would look after you if Morgana and I slipped away for privacy, and he said you followed him around _like a little duckling_.  It was he that piqued your interest in herbs—He taught you how to identify them, their properties, how to prepare them…  He had patience for you that he had for very few people.  He got to trust you both and you often visited and brought him food.  You sewed him some clothes.  It was only the three of us he wanted to remember him.”

“Does he still want to know me?”  I ask.  “I want to know him.”

Asra smiles brightly.  “I’m sure he’d love it if his little duckling was in his life again.”

“Even though he dislikes Ilya,” I say sombrely.  Asra laughs.

“He can’t stand him.  Ilya’s theatrical and extroverted and Muriel can’t connect with that… I don’t think Muriel will ever _like_ Ilya, but he will tolerate him for you if you give him time and patience.”

“I could use your guidance,” I say.  “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“We’ll go and visit him together,” Asra says.

 

 

The evening passes with food, drink, dancing and laughter.  I dance with Julian until my feet hurt, and give Asra and Morgana a kiss goodnight before they leave for their special place in the cave.  I will see them at breakfast in the morning, but for now, it is time to rest.

As we leave the hall and walk hand-in-hand to our guest room, Julian has a wistful smile on his face.  He looks far away, but in the best possible sense—chasing the vapour trail of a daydream.  There is no doubt in looking at his face; He is a man deeply and inescapably in love, and I am so intensely grateful for the abundant fortune that has allowed it to be me that holds his heart.

When we are behind the door to our room, he pulls me into his arms and wordlessly holds me, pressing kisses into the crown of my head and inhaling the scent of my hair.

“Oh, I love you, Sevrina,” he whispers after a long moment, his tone gentle and fanciful.  “I hope someday I will be able to adequately express it to you.”

I reach up and kiss him.  He’s ardent, his dreamy mind translating over perfectly into the embrace.

“I love you,” I say when we part.

The smile on his face widens.

“Gods, I’m one lucky scoundrel” he says, and we fall into another kiss.  The embrace is indulgent, but not lascivious.  When I pull back and look up into his beautiful, clear grey eyes, his affection is warm and soft.

“I want to hold you,” he whispers.  “I want to nestle into your hair and feel the way you breathe and tell you all the ways you take my breath away…”

“Let’s get comfortable, then,” I say.  “Nadia said the bedclothes would be by the window as per usual.”

Julian kisses my forehead and lets me go to the window, eyes following me as I unfold our satin sleeping clothes and sort out what’s what.  When I figure out which is mine and which is his, I turn back around to see him watching me as he unties his cravat, dreamy smile still on his face.  I step over to him and begin to open his shirt.

“You look lost in reverie,” I say softly, smiling up at him.

“Oh, I am,” he replies, half laughing, and kisses the crown of my head.

I move to slide his shirt down his arms, but he stills my hands, pressing one to his heart, and lifting the other to his cheek to kiss the mound of my thumb.

“Will you tell me what secret wish has you so enchanted?” I ask softly.

Julian chuckles, a low rumble of laughter resonating through his chest, and strokes my cheek.

“I was watching them today,” he whispers.  “They were a beautiful sight, so in tune with one another, so completely whole together, so euphoric to finally have their love made union, and I was just thinking how wonderful it will be to see a crown of flowers on your head one day, when the same blessing is ours and you take me for a husband.”

I smile and reach up to caress his hair.

“Oh, Ilyushenka,” I whisper.  “That’s so beautiful.”

“I don’t want to ask yet,” he continues.  “I want to be sure enough time has passed that you won’t just say _yes_ riding the wave of everything that’s happened the last few weeks… I want you to be able to give me an answer without it potentially overwhelming you.  I’ve wanted you for my wife since before the memory loss.  I will want you forever.  I just want to wait for the time to be right for you.”

“Hush, Ilya,” I whisper, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing my cheek to his chest.  “I understand.  You don’t have to explain… It’s good of you to want me to have time.”

He holds me in quiet for a moment, pressing little kisses to my hair.

“Gods, I love you,” he whispers, on the edge of a soft laugh.  He is so dear…

“And I love you,” I reply, smiling wide, pulling back to look into his eyes.  His expression is unreservedly happy, his smile easy, his eyes still lingering in the realm of a dream.

“Although we’re not betrothed yet,” he whispers with a grin, “I just want to complete the image in my mind… Tell me… will it be purple wisteria for us, too?  Or maybe white frangipani?  It’s too bad that wolfsbane is poisonous… What about hydrangea? Narcissus?  I just want a vision to hold on to until you’re really my bride…”

I smile and rake my fingers idly through the russet hair on his chest.

“Peonies,” I whisper.  “I want pink peonies for us.”

Julian’s eyes go wide and the dreamy smile on his face is replaced by one of surprise.

“Peonies?” he whispers, studying my now thoughtful expression.  “You want peonies?”

I look up at him, and a wave of realization slowly comes over me in the silence as we stare at one another.  I can see him clear as day, offering me a peony before giving me an ardent kiss, hidden in the safety of the hedge maze.  I can see him giving me another at the door to my rooms on the palace grounds before offering me his arm to take me out for the afternoon.  I can see him tucking one deftly behind my ear with a smile, and another time caressing my cheek and throat with a peony as I sit in his arms in the palace grounds, watching a sunset.

“You used to give me…” I whisper, unable to form the sentence fully on the first try.  I heave a breath, almost a stunned laugh, and he takes tight hold of my hands.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, “Do you… Do you _remember_ …?”

“You used to give me pink peonies,” I whimper, tears welling in my eyes.  “You used to tell me they were symbolic of romance and prosperity… You said they even have medical properties… Ilya… I can see you picking me peonies in the gardens… Once we confessed love, you gave me a peony every time we met…”

Julian is staring down at me in disbelief and places his hands on either side of my face. 

“Oh, my Darling,” he says, the smile reforming on his lips, a fine tremor in his fingers.  “Sevrina, you remember….”

I’m nodding frantically.  “Ilya, how…?”

“I don’t know!” he heaves, beginning to laugh delightedly, sweeping me into his arms and spinning me until I’m laughing, too.  “I don’t know, but it’s wonderful… Maybe… Maybe when you were brought back, your brain had to decide what to keep hold of in terms of what you could access… Maybe your brain shut off the pathways to your memories to preserve your ability to comprehend and access language… Maybe…. Maybe you’re building _new_ pathways…. Maybe you’ll get other memories back, too.”

He draws back from me, never letting go, and looks me in the eyes with a smile of irrepressible joy as a tear breaks over his cheek.

“Sevrina,” he breathes.  “Sevrina, _you remembered me_.”


	32. Playing Games

When I awaken in the morning, Julian is asleep in my arm, his head resting on my shoulder, and he’s clutching a bunch of peonies at my breast.  He must have sneaked out to the gardens in the night as I slept to pick them.  I smile and turn my head to nuzzle into his wild, auburn curls, and he stirs softly against me with a soft groan.

“I’ve brought you peonies, Kitten,” he says lowly as he lifts his head, pausing to yawn.  “I wanted to give you peonies after your memory of them surfaced.”

“Thank you, Ilya,” I whisper, caressing his cheek while he blinks away the sleep from his eyes.

“You remember me,” he says softly, wide smile on his face.  “You really remember me.”

“I do,” I whisper, and he kisses me sweetly.  When we part, he is smiling.

“It’s strange,” I say lowly, “I was getting very small pieces of memory through the day yesterday… During the wedding I felt like I recognized the way they looked at each other… Then after dinner, I watched you play the vielle and I could see you playing at the fountain for me and a dog.”

“You remembered Brundle?” He laughs delightedly.

“Just a glimpse,” I reply.  “She sat with me, listening with one ear quirked up.”

Julian smiles wide.

“Sevrina, I have a feeling this is just the beginning,” he says excitedly as he strokes my cheek.  “I just know you’re going to get your memories back.”

I smile up at him and rake his curls back from his face.

“I don’t want to hope too much, just in case,” I explain.  “But even if I never get another memory back, I’m glad the one I have is of you.”

He kisses me softly and then presses himself up from the mattress.

“Let’s go and find Asra and Morgana and tell them,” he says excitedly.  “Maybe they will have some ideas.”

Julian and I get out of bed and dress while he talks about his hopes for my memory recovery, and then he takes my hand and kisses it sweetly before pressing it to his heart.

“Sevrina, the happiness you give me,” he whispers.  “I could never have imagined such a wonderful life as what I have with you at my side… I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you so.”

I wrap my arms around his middle and press myself tightly against him.

“I’m so happy you broke into my shop,” I mutter.  I smile as I feel a low rumble of laughter softly shake his ribs.  He kisses my forehead, and we head to the dining room.

 

Asra and Morgana are finishing their breakfast alone, pausing to kiss and laugh between sips of hot drinks and shared pastry.  They are in a cloud of affection too thick to notice us at first, and I worry for a moment that we are intruding until I see that Nadia has evidently been here, as her plate has not been cleared from the table, but she’s nowhere to be seen.  Julian squeezes my hand in excitement.

“Oh, Sevrina, tell them before I burst,” he whispers. 

“Good morning, you two Lovebirds,” I say laughingly.  They part and beam at us.

“Have breakfast with us before we go,” Asra says, motioning to the chairs across from them.  “Nadia has gone to check that the carriage is as luxurious as possible—I told her not to fuss so much, but she loves to spoil her friends.”

“So let her spoil us for the honeymoon,” Morgana laughs, “We’ll tell her to pull back a bit when we’re home again, but I don’t mind a little spoiling after all of our time apart.”

As I take my seat across from my sister, Julian begins to fill a plate with fruit and a buttery pastry and sets it in front of me before filling a plate for himself. 

“Did you enjoy the cave?” I ask teasingly.  Morgana laughs lowly as Asra’s cheeks burn pink.  He laughs and hides his smile behind his hands.

“Very much,” Morgana replies, “Didn’t we, Sweetheart?”

Asra begins to chuckle and leans over to nuzzle his nose against Morgana’s, unabashedly and uninhibitedly in love.  Julian smiles and squeezes my hand encouragingly.

“Tell them, Kitten,” he whispers.  “I can’t contain myself much longer.”

I laugh softly and Morgana and Asra part their display of affection to look at me.

“Tell us what?”  Asra asks warily.  “What did you do?”

“We didn’t _do_ anything,” Julian laughs, “And this isn’t a prank.  But something happened… Sevrina?”

Asra and Morgana’s eyes fall to me expectantly.  Asra glances over at Julian once more as if he is still expecting me to reveal some big practical joke, but then turns his gaze back to me to hear what I have to say.

“Last night,” I say measuredly, “I had a memory reach me… A memory from four years ago.”

“What?”  Morgana breathes, mouth agape.  “What did you remember?”

“Yesterday was strange,” I explain, “I had several… Tiny visions… During your wedding ceremony, I remembered how you used to look at each other.  At the dinner party, I remembered Ilya playing his vielle in the gardens, and I remembered his dog… But these were all just flashes, glimpses of the past, nothing all that solid… It was after we returned to our room that I had a more complete memory come through.”

“What was it?” Asra asks.

“I remembered Ilya giving me peonies,” I explain.  “He used to give them to me all the time after we said we loved each other.”

“She remembered my telling her what symbolism was attached to the flowers,” Julian continues, “She remembered me picking them, putting them in her hair, tickling her with them…”

Morgana reaches across the table to me and takes hold of my hand.

“Rina, you had a memory,” she breathes.  Her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“I did,” I say, my voice hardly above a whisper.

Her smile wobbles and her tears break over her cheeks “I think… I think this means we can get the other memories, too.”

I smile excitedly and wipe my eyes as we share a laugh. 

“I hope so,” I whisper.  “I want to remember everything.  I want to remember you, too.”

 

Soon after, Nadia returns to announce their carriage is ready to take them to the beachfront villa up the coast.  We wish Asra and Morgana a wonderful getaway, and stay for coffee with Nadia and Portia before we head home through the marketplace, picking up a few things to make an easy dinner. 

As I cook, Julian fusses with his desk in Asra and Morgana’s old room, which we have decided to turn into an office for him.  All through dinner, Julian’s eyes linger longingly over my lips, but he doesn’t express his desire until I’ve nearly finished washing the dishes, and he presses up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he nuzzles into my hair.  I only need one guess as to what’s on his mind.

“It’s our first night alone in our home together,” he murmurs mischievously.  “Will you play a game with me, Sevrina?”

I smile at the flirtatious lilt his voice—I knew this was coming—And I turn around to look at him as I dry my hands.

“What kind of game?”

He draws nearer to me, planting little kisses across my cheeks, making me close my eyes in delight as his arms wrap around my waist.

“Remember in the Hanged Man’s realm,” he whispers, close enough to my ears that I feel his breath shift my hair, “When I was caught in the vines, how you asked me if I like to feel pain…”

“Yes,” I whisper back, nuzzling into his cheek and reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck.  “I remember.”

“I’d love for you to hurt me a little,” he whispers huskily, “Tease me, make me squirm, make me beg, give me orders… Make me submit to your will.  Punish me if I’m badly behaved, reward me if I’m good…”

I pull back to look into his eyes.  “Hurt you?” I whisper hesitantly as I raise a hand to smooth his curls, “Ilya, I don’t know if I could bear to...”

He shakes his head.  “You must remember that _hurt_ is different from _harm,_ ” he says.  “You may leave marks, but I’m not asking you to do damage.  I just want intense sensations…. I’d never ask you to do anything unsafe. You didn’t mind biting me in the Hanged Man’s realm, did you?”

I shake my head.  “I didn’t mind because I could tell you were enjoying it.”

He smiles.  “I will be vocal.”

He waggles his eyebrows and I laugh, but still hesitate.

“Tell me what it is you want,” I whisper.  “Help me understand better.”

He caresses my cheek with his long, tender fingers and smiles.

“I suppose this desire comes in two parts,” he says softly.  “Firstly, I know it sounds as if it’s counter to the point of sexual love, but I get gratification from pain… You could say it heightens the pleasure for me… Oh don’t get me wrong, I love sweet and gentle romance just as much as you do.  I can’t get enough of it.  It’s just that sometimes, I crave a different flavour… I want to feel the passion of it, surrender myself to my trust in you, and moreover, the second part—which is even better—I want to devote myself entirely to your enjoyment and your ecstasy… Give me orders and I will obey them.  Tell me what you long for and you shall have it with every ounce of my enthusiasm… Be greedy with me—take your pleasure out of me.  Hurt me a little on the way, make the wait unbearable and then once I have proven I will be dutiful, you and I will come together and I will stop at nothing to satisfy you.”

His breath is a little more laboured just thinking about it.  I look up into his dark eyes.

“All those times you’ve said _I’m your slave_ or promised to be good or begged me to command you comes from this need, doesn’t it?” I ask.

He nods his head.  “I love submitting to you… Being able to absolutely surrender is good for me.”

“Did we play these games when we were together before?” I ask.

He chuckles lowly.  “Yes, you…. You had a little—I think it was a horsewhip….  You’d swat me with it, then kiss the welts that rose up… You were so gentle, it was bliss…. Sometimes a few smacks of that whip and a few bites were all it would take to make me beg for you to end the game and let me have you, other times we’d play for hours before the main event, as it were—You’d make me wait until I begged, and you’d kiss the tracks of my tears when you gave me release… It was heaven… You were shy at the start then, too, but you grew to enjoy the games… We played them maybe once a month or so. You said the trust brought us closer, gave us an escape from the stresses of life and a way to shut out the world and focus only on each other.  It bonded us.”

I look him in the eyes, his intensity and his desire makes my breath shallow.

“Really?” I whisper.

“Yes… I won’t push for too much,” he says, “I’ll ease you in.  If you’re uncomfortable at any point, tell me and we will stop, I promise.  You’re in control.”

“I’ll try… But I need you to help me, Ilya… Show me how and I will try….It may take me some time to get it right for you.”

He smiles.  “I don’t deserve you, Sevrina.  Truly, I don’t… I am ecstatic to be so lucky…”

He moves forward as if to kiss me and stops just shy of my mouth.

“May I kiss you?” he whispers throatily. 

“Yes,” I say softly, “Kiss me.”

“May I use an open mouth?”

“I’d prefer it if you did.”

He smiles again.  “Thank you, Sevrina.”

He kisses me reverently, softly, all lips at first and then his mouth going gradually open, his playful tongue slipping between my lips as the kiss deepens.  The both of us make small murmuring sounds at the back of our throats as we kiss, and he pulls his mouth away from mine after a moment and looks into my eyes, his grey eyes dark, and his breath is laboured.

“Sevrina, what shall I do to please you?” he mutters softly, “What do you desire of me?”

“Go through to the bedroom,” I whisper, trying to take on the commanding air he longs for.

“Yes, Sevrina,” he says softly, and crosses the room out into the hall, eagerly.

“Walk slowly,” I say, which makes him slow his pace, “I’m watching you.  I love to see the way you move.”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he says lowly, and continues to our room in a more measured pace.  “Will I open the door for you?” he asks.   “How best shall I serve you?”

I smile.  He is delighting in this, and that makes me feel warm inside.  I think back to our encounter in the Hanged Man’s realm, him tangled and immobilized in the vines, and then I think of Nadia at the wedding dinner telling me to tie him to the bed…

“Yes, open the door, Ilya,” I say sternly, “And shut it behind us when we’re inside.”

He does what he’s told on the first order and once we’re inside, I go to the middle of my rag rug and point to the floor in front of me.

“Come here,” I say.  “Get on your knees.”

He swallows hard and scrambles to the floor in front of me.

“Yes, Sevrina,” he whispers, “What do you want of me?”

I rake my fingers through his hair before balling my hand into a fist at his scalp, gently and evenly pulling his hair with a slowly building intensity.  He closes his eyes and a low, aching sound falls from his mouth.

“Yes, Sevrina,” he says, barely audible.

I pull so that his head is tilted up to me.

“Is this what you want?” I whisper.

“ _Da, day mne bol'_ ” he mutters lowly. “ _bol'she boli_ …”

“In Vesuvian, please.”

“Yes,” he gasps, “More, please, more…”

I pull harder.  He squeezes his eyes shut. I lessen my grip gradually, without letting go.

“Ilya, open your eyes.”

He complies, and meets my gaze.  “Yes, Sevrina.”

His face is flushed and he bites his lip.  The way he looks up at me… I’m sure I’ve had him on his knees like this before, whimpering, begging for direction.  Heat begins to thrum between my legs and I smile down at him.

“Keep your hands behind your back,” I say, then press closer to him.  “What is your most vivid memory of when we were in this room last, those few years ago?”

“It was morning… We were naked—I’d spent the night here with you and you were so beautiful… I held you from behind and kissed your ears and shoulders… You turned your head to meet my kisses as I roused your from your sleep.  You drew me into your arms and pulled me over you…. You nuzzled into me and we melted into sweet, languid lovemaking…  It was so slow and so deeply bonding… Afterward, we nuzzled into one another and you laughed when you realized you’d left love bites down my throat and shoulders the previous night… I never wanted them to fade…”

I pull his hair a little harder and a soft, desperate sound stirs in the back of his mouth.  I bend down and keep my mouth just out of reach of his.

“I’ll try to meet your needs, Ilya,” I say softly.  “Just have a little patience while I figure out how to, alright?”

“You’re at an excellent start,” he whispers dreamily.

“You’ll tell me what is good along the way?” I ask.

“Yes, Sevrina.”

“And if you don’t like something I try, I want you to tell me.”

“Yes, Sevrina.”

I pull his head back so that his neck is craned back.  He’s closed his eyes to take in the sensation of having his hair pulled.  He hasn’t moved his hands from behind his back.

“You haven’t moved,” I remark.

“You haven’t told me I may,” he whispers.

“You’re very obedient,” I chuckle.

“I want to be good,” he murmurs, “I want you to be pleased with me... I promise I’ll be good….”

I let go his hair and he gasps.

“Stand up, Ilya,” I say.  He gets to his feet all the while not moving his hands from behind his back.  He looks at me with longing in his eyes.

“Sevrina, may I tell you how beautiful you are?  Not only in this moment, but throughout the night?”

I blush and caress his cheek, running my thumb over his lip, which he moves to kiss, but stops short—he hasn’t asked permission.

“Yes, Ilya,” I whisper sweetly.

“Sevrina, you’re so immeasurably dazzling I can’t think straight.”

I laugh softly and he smiles. 

“I love you, Ilya”

“And I love you, Sevrina.”

I step toward him and stand a moment in intimate closeness.  His breath is shaking.

“I want to touch you,” he whispers.

“Be patient,” I say with a teasing smile.

“Have I been good enough to kiss you?”

“Yes, Love, you may, and then we’ll get started.”

He kisses me passionately, reverently, and after a moment he pulls his needy mouth from mine and looks into my eyes breathlessly.

“Tell me how to please you, Sevrina,” he breathes.  “I’ll do anything.”

His hands are behind him still—his fingers flutter, awaiting my permission, yet unable to stay still.  I can tell he wants to submit to my every whim, to surrender his will wholly to my every desire.  But I want to tease to him, first…

“You’d better undress,” I whisper, “Then lay on the bed.”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he murmurs, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it onto the floor.  He is already barefoot, and starts to undo his trousers.    When he slides them down his legs and discards them with the rest of his clothes, he looks at me with mischief in his eyes and smiles at me as he sits down on the bed.  His body is so beautiful.  His arousal is already prominently apparent.

“Where do you want me?” he asks softly.  He’s already enjoying the game.

“Lie down on your back,” I say, “Get comfortable.  You may be there for a while, I’ve not decided yet.”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he says with a wicked grin, and makes a show of getting comfortable.  I go to a drawer and produce a pair of scarves.

“Are you ready to play?” I ask. 

“Oh yes, my Love,” he says, eyeing the scarves, “I’ll play any game you like.”

I step to the side of the bed and pause.

“Put your hands up,” I say firmly.  “Just above your head, and grab that bar on the bedframe.”

Julian obeys me without protest or delay—his hands practically fly to take hold of the bar.

“Good,” I say with a soft laugh, pleased to see his eager excitement at the impending games.  I take one of the scarves and begin to tie his wrists together.

“Now, I will have to have you show me some sturdy sailor’s knots in the future,” I say laughingly, making him smile, “But should these knots loosen, you understand you’re being restrained, yes?”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he whispers.  “If it comes undone I will not move my hands from this bar without your permission.”

I finish tying the knot and draw my mouth down to his, where I brush him with a light kiss and pull back as he arches himself trying to get closer.  He looks at me desperately, and I smile teasingly at him. He laughs, delighted in anticipation.  I trail my fingers lightly from his throat, down his chest, stomach, hip, thigh until I’m at the other end of the bed with the other scarf.  He watches me intently as I tie his ankles to a bar at the foot of the bed in much the way I’ve tied his wrists.  I slowly make my way back up to the head of the bed, and sit on the edge of the mattress, pulling myself down over him to look in his eyes.

“Are you comfortable, Ilya?” I ask.

He smiles.  “Yes, Sevrina, I am.”

“Good…. If at any point you want the game to end, I want you to promise to tell me.”

He nods.  “I promise I will, and the same for you, love.  We can stop any time you like.  I don’t want to push you too much at once.  We’ll ease in.”

I lower my mouth as if to kiss him, but stay just out of reach.

“I also want you to tell me what you enjoy,” I whisper, “So that I know in the future.”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he says, straining to reach me. I pull away and he sighs, a little frustration building.

I stand up, away from the bed, and slowly undress, starting with pulling my trousers down my legs and kicking them to the side.  He watches me intensely and swallows hard.  I pull my tunic over my head, toss it into a pile with my trousers, and step toward to bed.

“Sevrina,” he whispers, “You’re gorgeous….” 

I place a hand on his chest and rake my fingers through the hair there, giving him an opportunity to let his eyes wander my unclothed body.  He squirms a little when my fingers lightly skim his ribs, clenching his eyes shut and drawing his lips back with a hiss.

“Oh, I’d forgotten you’re ticklish,” I whisper wickedly, “Oh, if only I had a feather…”

“Oh Gods,” Julian laughs, squirming as I continue to lightly brush my fingers up his sides and into his underarms.  His breathing is shallow and he grunts at the back of his throat a few times until I lay my hands down firm and smooth out the skin I’ve just tickled.  He catches his breath and looks up at me with an aching expression.

“Please,” he sighs, “Please kiss me, Sevrina…”

“Be patient,” I breathe, teasing him.  I caress the line of his jaw and trail my fingers down his throat.  I lay hot, wet kisses over his collarbones and down his chest, where I experimentally graze his nipple with my teeth.  He takes in a sharp breath at the contact of my teeth, and arches up into me as best he can.

“Please,” he mutters, “Yes, please….”

I press my teeth into his pectoral lightly, easing into the clench so I can be sure not to overwhelm.  He lets away little murmurs and gasps of encouragement, and after a moment I draw back and gently kiss over the marks left by my teeth.

“Here, please,” he pleads, turning his head to the side, showing me the space on his neck where he wants to be bitten.  “Please, leave marks… Please…”

His cheeks, throat and chest are flushed, his eyes are heavy-lidded.  It makes me want to give him what he’s begging for.

I draw myself up to his throat, where I place wet, open-mouthed kisses until I nuzzle below his ear and gently nip at his skin.  His breathing is heavy in my ears, and I wonder how much more I can take myself before I need to have him…

I press my teeth into the muscle on the side of his neck, again easing into increased pressure, and suck hard on his skin. He lets out soft, wordless mutterings and I let my hand wander to his chest where I gingerly twist his nipple.  I suck and bite at the skin on both sides of his neck until I leave reddened reminders of my presence there, which will most certainly purple overnight…

“Oh Gods,” he exhales, “Yes, Sevrina, yes…. Oh I love it… I love it…”

I pull back and soothe the bite marks with soft kisses and he turns his head, desperate to get his mouth to mine.

“Please,” He whispers, “Please kiss me, Sevrina…”

I pull back and look into his eyes.  I ease in slowly, prolonging the wait, and smile as his mouth reaches for mine.  I brush my lips against his lightly and he whimpers, his eyes closed, brows furrowed together, breath heavy, and though I am dying to give him the release, I know if I kiss him now, I will melt into him and be unable to carry on with the game for my own need to be devoured by this wave of lust that is gathering momentum in him…

I draw back and he sighs heavily, opening his eyes to watch me as I pull back from him.  He bites his lip and groans low in his throat as my hands slide down his chest and stomach and I take hold of his erection, stroking it slowly. 

“Sevrina,” he murmurs, “Sevrina…”

I stroke him at a slow, aching pace, gently rolling his testicles in my free hand as I kiss hotly across his stomach, down the little trail of hair under his navel and over his hips.  I linger at his hip and look up at him.

“Would you like another bite, Ilya?” I whisper.

He nods languidly.  “Yes, Sevrina… Please, yes…”

I press my teeth into his hip as I continue to stroke him.  He sucks in a breath at the pressure behind my teeth, letting little aching sounds come from his throat.  I feel him trying to hold back from tilting his hips into my slow, steady strokes.  When I pull back from the bite and kiss over the mark I’ve left behind, I feel a change in his voice as he says my name.

I take the tip of him between my lips, which makes him shudder deliciously.  He bites his lip as I take him deeper into my mouth, all the while making eye contact with him, and bob my head very slowly up and down his shaft.  He groans.

“Sevrina, you’re so beautiful,” he sighs desperately, “Oh Gods, I…. Oh I love it…”

After teasing him with slow, deep entries into my mouth for a few minutes, I pull away when my jaw begins to ache.  He stares at me, transfixed, desperate for more, and strains against his restraints to get closer.  I press him back down against the mattress and he lets out a frustrated huff until I pull myself over him, straddling his chest.  He looks up at me and sighs achingly.  He has a very good view between my legs, and he exhales with feeling as my fingers travel to caress myself.

“Oh yes,” he whispers with enthusiasm.  “Oh, you smell so sweet… please come closer… Please, I promise I’ll be good…”

“Be patient,” I say, running my fingers over myself in tiny, rapid circles.  “You’re gorgeous, Julian…”

“Not remotely as gorgeous as you, my Little Rabbit,” he exhales with a pained expression.  “ _Ya khochu poprobovat'_ … Please, let me taste you…”

I rake the fingers of my free hand through his curls again, and sigh with pleasure.  His eyes flit all over me and  settle again over that intimate part of me as he watches me pleasure myself.

“Oh, Sevrina,” he heaves, “Please… please let me taste you, I’ll be good…”

I slide the tip of my forefinger inside myself and draw it out again, and let him take it into his eager mouth to suck away the flavour of my most secretive parts… He groans throatily as he tastes me, and I let my hand in his hair tighten into a fist at his scalp, giving him that nice, even hair pull he enjoyed a short while ago.  He closes his eyes and whimpers, suddenly very visibly emotional.

“Sevrina,” he says, his throat catching, “Sevrina, please don’t make me wait any longer…”

“Shh,” I say soothingly, drawing myself up from the bed.  “Oh, Ilya, I haven’t hurt you have I?”

“No, my Darling, I just can’t bear it anymore… I need to be nearer to you…”

“Hush, my sweet Love,” I whisper, “Let me untie you… Just a moment now.”

I go to the foot of the bed and untie his ankles, taking a moment to gently rub and kiss them where the scarf dug in, leaving a little pink indentation in his pale skin.

“Ilya, my Love, what do you want to do now?” I ask softly.

“I just want to worship you,” he exhales, watching me intensely as I move up to the head of the bed to untie his wrists, “Please, Sevrina, I feel like I’ll burst…”

“Hush, Darling, don’t be upset,” I whisper.  “I’m untying you… Just a moment, Love…”

“I need you,” he breathes.

“You’ll have me, Ilya… I’m here…”

Once I have discarded the scarves, I caress his face, but he still doesn’t move.  He continues clutching the bars of the bedframe with both hands.  His eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

“Give me your hands, Love,” I whisper softly, coming back around to the side of the bed.  He complies and I smooth out the marks on his wrists with kisses and tender touches.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, Ilya,” I whisper.  “Are you alright?”

He nods and smiles.  I draw my body down to lie with his.  He doesn’t move his hands.

“Is that what you wanted?” I whisper, cupping his cheek.

“Yes, Sevrina…. Please, may I touch you?”  He whispers, “May I kiss you, _please_?  Will you let me nearer?”

I bend down over him and nuzzle my nose with his. 

“Yes, Ilya, yes….”

His arms go around me as his mouth takes mine.  His kisses are desperate—They take my breath away.  He rolls me over onto my back and kisses me across my cheeks and down my throat as I cling to him.  His hands wander my breasts and my leg that has wrapped around his hip. 

“Sevrina,” he heaves achingly, “Would you let me taste you? I want so much to please you…”

“Yes, Ilya,” I whisper, “Only kiss me again first….”

His mouth meets mine again hotly, working over mine as his hands flit all over me until one settles on the side of my face.  As his mouth works down my throat to my breasts, I take the tip of his thumb into my mouth.  He stops to suck and softly bite at my nipples until he draws both his hands down to my hips, where his mouth hotly follows. 

As he kisses over my belly, he gently parts my legs beneath him and wraps an arm around my upper thigh from the underside so that he can caress my breasts as his mouth makes eager contact with the folds between my legs.  He kisses me there softly, treating it like a second mouth, his lips and gently probing tongue taking direction and encouragement from my sighs and murmurs.  I reach a hand down to rake my fingers encouragingly through his auburn curls, and he looks up into my eyes as he continues to run his playful mouth over me. 

“Ilya,” I heave, looking into his eyes as he pleasures me artfully, eagerly. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, “May I touch you inside?”

“Yes, Love,” I breathe.

Julian deftly probes the entrance of my body with his long fingers, sliding in first his forefinger and then his middle finger along with it.  I moan softly and he exhales excitedly.

“Oh Gods,” he breathes, watching the rise and fall of my chest as I breathe heavy.  “Yes, Darling, let me make it feel good….”

He lowers his sweet wet mouth to me and continues to kiss and swirl his playful tongue as he slides his fingers in and out of me.  I try to still my hips from tilting into his mouth too vigorously, but it’s too delicious to resist.  I had no idea his games would drive me so wild.  I break over the edge and he grips my hips gently as I moan loudly, the air glittering around us in intensifying starbursts. He keeps his mouth on me, soft, warm, so he doesn’t devastate my pleasure with a sudden parting.  I start laughing, my hips still tilting.

“Ooh, I could go another,” I say hungrily, making him laugh.  “Come here.”

Julian comes up to kiss me and passes his free hand over my hair.

“Did you enjoy that?” He whispers desperately as he withdraws his fingers slowly.  “I’ll do it again if you like.”

I shake my head.  “No, it was wonderful… But I want you here, Ilya… I want you inside…”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” he breathes playfully, “If that’s what you want, I will be all too happy to cater to your request…”

I reach between us and take hold of his rigid erection and point him inside.  He kisses me as he slides in, his murmurs humming against my lips as he begins to roll his hips into me.

“Oh yes,” he exhales, taking easy strokes in and out of me, “Oh, Sevrina, I’m yours to do with as you please…”

He pulls back to watch the way my body shifts beneath his and he draws back down to me for kisses.

“Tell me how you want it,” he whispers, “I want to please you…”

“Go faster,” I breathe, “And sit back again, I love to watch you, you’re gorgeous….”

Julian does exactly as I ask, quickening his speed.  I demand his hand and place it over my breast, and I murmur his name and tell him how incredible it feels as I let my fingers flit down to rub my clitoris as he thrusts in and out of me.  After a long moment he slows to a halt, taking deep breaths.

“Ah, fuck,” he heaves, “Wait… I’m sorry… Just a second and I’ll keep going…”

“What’s the matter?” I ask softly.

“I just… ah, I’ll spend if I keep going,” he says with a half laugh.  “I don’t want the night to be over just yet.”

I chuckle mischievously.  “What makes you think we’ll be finished once you spend?”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to tell you what to do tonight, aren’t I?  I’ll have you babbling in your native tongue more than once tonight if I have it my way.  Now keep going.”

He locks eyes with me and cracks a grin.

“Oh, Gods _love_ you,” he whispers with a throaty chuckle, falling over me in kisses.  I laugh and pull his hips forward, encouraging him to move again.  He starts to shift in and out of me, and I kiss his cheek and bite softly at his ear.

“Sit up,” I say.  “I want to watch you.”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he whispers, and does what he is told.

“Faster,” I demand.  “Don’t hold back, Ilya…”

“Yes, Sevrina,” he breathes, picking up pace.

“Mmm… that’s good…”

 He takes in a sharp breath and then he groans “Oh, Gods…  I want to spend on your skin, please?”

“Yes, Ilya,” I whisper.   “Finish for me…”

After another short moment he bites his lip and closes his eyes tight.  His movements stutter from his formerly steady rhythm until he withdraws from me, giving a throaty exhale as he crests, ejaculating over my stomach in hot, jerky spurts. He is so breath-taking my heart swells… I draw his hand from my breast up to my face and kiss his palm.

“Ooh, that’s good,” I whisper, “That’s a good boy…. Let go…”

He grins languidly as the pleasure washes over him, and then he looks at me with dreamy eyes as he lowers himself down over me to be kissed.

“Such a good boy,” I whisper teasingly, delighting him.

“Thank you, Sevrina,” he whispers between kisses, “Please allow me to continue to serve you….”

I nuzzle his nose and smile.

“Yes, love.”

He draws himself down to me and kisses my mouth.  He moves his hand down over my body and lets it slip between my legs were he caresses me with a skilled touch.  He keeps very close to me as he does so, peppering my face with kisses while my breath grows shallow.

“Please, Sevrina,” he whispers, “Let me take you to the peak….”

It isn’t long before he gets his wish and the air around us begins to glint silver as my body arches this way and that, clinging to him desperately as a soft cry makes its way out of me.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, gazing down over me in awe, “Oh, I love it, Sevrina, yes….”

He lets his hand linger for a long moment before moving it so that he can put his arms around me, petting my hair and kissing me with a reverent sweetness.  I can feel him trembling as he kisses me, his emotions are running so high.  When he pulls back, his cheeks, throat and chest are still flushed pink, and his eyes are searching my face for what to do next, and he looks down over my body.

“Please… Allow me to clean you up, my Love,” he says softly.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Alright, but after, I want you to relax with me,” I say.  “You’re my lover, not my slave.”

With a kiss, he presses himself up from the mattress and jaunts out of the bedroom.  When he returns, there’s a linen rag in his hand and he is wiping his lower belly clean of his spend.  Smiling, he joins me again on the mattress and gently cleans my skin.  His gaze is so loving, his touch, so tender.

“I looked in the bathroom mirror—I’m sure these bites will leave marks,” He says, making me laugh at his comically raised eyebrow. “ _Everyone_ is going to know I’m yours…. I’m going to have to get you a new horse whip…. Maybe one or two other things to play with.”

I raise my hand to caress his cheek.

“Was that alright?” I whisper softly.  “I did my best, but I don’t ever want to be cruel…”

“No, Dearest,” he breathes, “You’re never cruel… Don’t worry, Kitten, you’ve never been cruel to me.”

“Did I give you what you wanted?” I whisper. 

His smile is irrepressible.

“Oh yes, my Little Rabbit,” he says, beaming, “That was an excellent start.  Did you enjoy it?”

I smile.  “I was nervous…  But I can see how it would enhance our trust bond… But Ilya, oh… It was impossible not to enjoy watching you—Your excitement is so contagious and I love to see your pleasure…”

He kisses me reverently, and I beckon him to lay at my side.  He lays his head on my breast and wraps his arm around my waist as he nuzzles in, and I pull the blanket up around us. 

“I love you, Sevrina,” he says softly.  I can hear the smile in his voice.

“I love you, Ilyushenka,” I reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.  “Are you feeling relaxed?”

“I feel wonderful,” he says sweetly.

I nuzzle into his hair and we share a giggle as I run a loving hand up and down his back.  He tightens his hold on me and kisses sweetly at my breast, gentle and loving.

“Is there anything you need?” I whisper, raising my other hand to stroke his hair.  “I want to take care of you.”

“This is perfect,” he mutters lowly.  “Your touch is so good… You’re so sweet… You have such a way of making me feel safe and wanted without even a word…”

“Good,” I whisper. “You are so loved… So wanted, Ilya… You tell me about the happiness I give you, but you need to know how much you give me… What value this love holds for me… Ilya, you… You’ve made this life worth being brought back for.”

“Gods, I love you,” he says, and pulls himself even closer to me.

 

 

Julian isn’t in bed when I wake, which isn’t entirely unusual—He’s often up and puttering around his office in the morning ahead of heading to the clinic, and so I get up and dress.  I peek into his office, and he isn’t there.  He isn’t in the bath, either.  Then I see a little note on the worktop in the kitchen.

I’ve gotten used to his handwriting, but I have to take a moment when he’s written something in a rush.

 

 

_Sevrina, my Darling,_

_I forgot to mention that I’m to meet with Nazali and the Countess at the palace this morning and won’t be in the clinic, so please don’t worry about lunch.  I will be home this afternoon earlier than usual.  Every moment we’re apart is felt with a burning agony I can’t bear, so I will be home soon as I can—You looked so beautiful asleep on your pillow that I could hardly bear to leave the bed this morning.  My mind will swim all day with the image of my breath-taking enchantress…_

_I love you more than a sailor loves the salty sea air, more hypnotized by you than siren song…_

_Oh, this fool is utterly mad for you…._

_Your Ilya_

_PS: Those marks you left on me purpled nicely… Whatever will I do if they’re noticed at the palace?  I’m sure there will be a great deal of whispering behind fans!_

_PPS:  I haven’t even left the house, and I’m already too far from you.  Please say you’ve missed me when I come home?_

I laugh softly to myself as I read it over.  Oh, Julian, even your little notes make my heart flutter.

Not much to do without making his breakfast, I suppose…  I might as well treat myself with some pumpkin bread.

I ready myself for the day and gather up my straw bag to head to market, making a mental list of what we will need for dinner.  Julian mentioned a few days ago that he missed the creamy garlic scallops I used to make for us.  I think I’ll surprise him with it tonight… That will make him smile.

I put on my hooded shawl and head out the door with my straw bag.  At market, I head straight for the baker’s stall.

“Sevrina!” He calls when I approach.  “How are you?  Come in and say hello—Adhara’s here with little Omer….”

I smile and turn in to the door of his stall.  His wife is in the back with their son behind a screen, and Selasi pops his head around to her.

“Sevrina is here,” he says.  “Will I bring her in?”

“Of course!” I hear her say. “Sevrina, come in!”

Selasi smiles and motions me behind the screen.

“I’ll get you some tea,” he says.

“Thank you, Selasi,” I laugh, and duck behind the screen to see Adhara and the baby.

When I round the back of the screen, I see Adhara is seated on a cushioned bench against the wall, nursing their son and rocking him gently.

“Oh, he’s gotten so round!” I laugh softly.  “No more trouble, I hope?”

“No trouble at all,” she chuckles, scooting to the side of the bench.  “Thank you for your help, again…. Please sit down.”

I take a seat beside her and smile at the chubby, brown babe at her breast.  Adhara’s finger is trapped in the middle of a tiny, fat fist, and she coos at him.

“Look who came to see you, Omer!” She sing-songs. 

The baby grunts and we share a laugh.

“I know!” I say softly.  “So rude of me to drop by during your breakfast!”

Adhara laughs and Selasi rounds the corner with a tin cup of mint tea, handing it to me.

“There you are, Sevrina,” he says.

“Oh, thank you,” I say, accepting the cup.  “Don’t worry, I haven’t come here to take advantage of your hospitality, I want to buy some bread as well.”

Selasi winks and we all chuckle.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says with a mischievous smile.  “I’ll get you anything you like if you tell us about this new friend of yours.”

“What new friend?” I ask.

“I believe he’s a doctor?” Adhara prods with a cheeky smile.

I grin.  

 

 

When I finish my shopping and head home, Julian is already there and bustling around in the upstairs above the shop.

“Sevrina?” He calls down.  “Is that you?”

“Yes, Love, and I missed you so terribly I thought my heart would rent in two,” I shout up to him in my best theatrical voice, “How in the world we ever survived the day apart, I’ll never know…”

When I reach the top of the stairs into the flat, Julian rushes to greet me and kisses me before taking the shopping bag into the kitchen for me.

“Creamy garlic scallops for dinner tonight?” I ask.

He grins.

“You’re too sweet to me,” he says softly.

“And I bought a little fig cake from the baker for dessert,” I add.  “Apparently word about us is getting around town.  Selasi and Adhara wanted to know all about you.  I think Morgana’s done some talking to them.”

“You were a topic of conversation with the Countess today, too,” Julian chuckles. “She saw this when I shrugged off my coat…”

Julian moves the collar of his shirt out of the way to reveal a purpled mark left from my mouth last night and I laugh.

“Oh goodness,” I laugh, feeling heat prickle my cheeks as I put away the shopping.  “She would certainly have something to say, I’m sure.”

Julian laughs. “She had a few questions—Nothing too invasive, but I think she just enjoyed watching me flounder… She did tell me that she’d made a few suggestions to you concerning me while I played the vielle at the palace, and…”

As I take a seat at the kitchen table, he trails off and laughs softly to himself as he takes hold of my hands.

“I’ve a confession to make,” he says with a guilty look on his face.  “I, ah… I went to the Red Market today after my meeting at the palace.”

“What?” I ask in surprise.  “Why?”

Julian laughs softly and looks over to meet my gaze with that wonderful troublemaking glint in his eye.

“Do you want to see what I bought?” He asks impishly, that familiar waggling of his eyebrows making me laugh.

“Have you been a bad boy?” I tease.

“Oh, I hope just a little,” he says, tugging me up from the chair and dragging me into the bedroom, giggling.

There’s a small bundle sitting on the foot of the bed, wrapped in a piece of nondescript fabric.  Julian sits me on the edge of the bed and smiles wickedly.

“I bought a few things to use for _the games_ ,” he explains in a giddy tone.                                       

“Oh, Gods,” I laugh.  “What did you do?”

Julian laughs and unwraps the parcel, setting out the items on the bed for inspection.  The first thing he hands me is a length of smooth, silky rope.

“That should be self-explanatory,” he laughs.  “We had some of this kind of rope before, because you hated binding me with anything too rough.  You didn’t like to see rope burns on my wrists and told me you wouldn’t bind me with anything that would cut into my skin… I’ll cut this into shorter, more manageable pieces… Four pieces ought to do nicely, depending on how you want to tie me… But then again I can always go and buy a second if we need more…”

He’s verging on silly with excitement.  It warms my heart to see, I love him so.

The next thing he hands me is a metal ring that fits in the palm of my hand.  I look at him with a sceptical eye and he laughs softly.

“Don’t look so wary, my Dear, it’s really very tame,” he says, chuckling lowly.  “It goes around me… It will help me to last longer on the nights when you don’t want me to spend for a while… Which, incidentally, is a fun game you used to enjoy playing with me—Taking me to edge and then denying me over and over until I wept and begged…. And when I finally did, I was putty in your hands… You’d hold and kiss me and praise me and care for me… It was heaven…”

He smiles absently at the memory and then remembers himself and grins at me, handing me a soft leather paddle.  It’s malleable, has a soft suede skin on each side, and a sturdy wooden handle sewn to it with threads of sinew.

“For when I behave badly,” he says with a wink.  “Use this on me and I’ll shape up my behaviour right away.”

The next thing he hands me is a slender, leather wrapped horsewhip with a flat tip.

“You used to have something quite like this,” he teases.  “You’d swat me with it and leave little hot welts on my chest and thighs and you’d kiss them so sweetly while they were stinging and say how much you loved me, it was paradise…”

He leans over to nuzzle into me and I meet him with a soft, sweet kiss.  When we part, he smiles mischievously before turning my attention to the last items on the mattress.  One looks like some kind of harness with a metal ring in the centre, and the other is a phallic-shaped piece with a wide base.

“What are these?” I ask softly, looking them over.  I don’t understand exactly what they’re used for.  Is this meant to be used on me, somehow?  I don’t imagine so, he’s too enthusiastic with his fingers, hips and mouth to need anything in addition to those…

Julian laughs lowly.  “Well, I don’t know how you’ll feel about this, but it’s fine if you don’t want to use it… I just had to buy it when I saw it there just in case—They’re not easy to find, and I couldn’t pass it up… The, uh… The harness would fasten around your waist and thighs just under your bottom, and this piece fits inside this ring like so…”

Julian demonstrates how the pieces fit together and I begin to understand with a laugh that I’d be wearing an erect phallus.

“What am I meant to do with that, then?” I ask with a dumbfounded chuckle.

His cheeks flush pink and he stammers, slightly embarrassed.  “Well…l ah, that is… If you’d _like_ to, ah… You… You could fuck me with it.”

I look at him with a quirked up brow, and Julian launches into a brief anatomy lesson, explaining what the phallic piece would press against inside him, what that stimulation can do for him in terms of pleasure, and ways in which we could put it into practice.

“It wouldn’t hurt you?” I ask cautiously. 

“No, Darling, it wouldn’t hurt me.  And besides that, I would guide you until you were used to it.”

The look in his eye is searching and eager.  He can tell I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this before and he puts his hands reassuringly over mine.

“Kitten, we won’t do _anything_ you’re uncomfortable with,” he says softly.  “Perhaps I was a bit overexcited about your reception to _the games_ the last night… I saw the marks you left on me when I went into the bath this morning and wanted more, you make me so greedy…  I thought about bringing you with me to the Red Market shops, but I was afraid you’d be embarrassed…”

“Ilya, it’s alright,” I say with a laugh.  “I think perhaps we’ll put this little set away until I’m more used to these _games_ … You know I’m a bit naïve… But if it’s something you would enjoy I’d be willing to try it down the line once I’m more acclimated.” 

His face splits into a brilliant grin.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says with a low chuckle, “You’re far, far too good to me…”

He kisses me ardently, fingers curling at the nape of my neck, mouth opening playfully over mine to draw my kisses deeper.  He makes a soft, low sound in his throat and then parts the embrace breathlessly, looking into my eyes.

“You love me, don’t you?” he whispers.

“More than anything,” I say, passing my hands over his hair, “Even when you’ve been bad…”

He laughs lowly.  “I do try to be good,” he whispers, smiling, drawing close for another kiss, but I stop him just short of my lips and shake my head.

“Oh, but you _have_ been bad, Ilya,” I whisper.  “You went to the Red Market today, and that’s a dangerous place…. I’m afraid I can’t just let that go undisciplined.”

He looks at me with a flicker of worry in his expression until my mouth curls into a teasing smile.  When he knows he hasn’t really upset me, he falls into the game effortlessly.

“I was wrong to do that, Sevrina,” he whispers, “I should not have gone without asking your permission.  I deserve to be punished… What will you have me do for my penance?”

“You’d better take down your trousers,” I say, “And bend over the armchair, there—hold onto its arms.”

He gets to his feet and steps over to the armchair in the corner, turning to me and unfastening his high-waisted trousers.

“Standing and bent over, facing the chair back?” He asks softly.

“Yes,” I say, gathering the paddle and standing up, watching him.  “Bend over the chair, one hand on each arm, facing the chair back.  Get your trousers down as far as your boots will allow.”

He watches me teasingly swat the palm of my hand with the soft paddle, and swallows hard as he takes down his trousers.  His cheeks are flushed with excitement.  When he bends over the chair with his smooth, white bottom exposed, I take a step nearer and pull his shirt halfway up his back so that it will not impede in the impending spanking.

“Such pretty skin you have,” I whisper.  “You look so delicious.”

“Thank you, Sevrina,” he whispers.

“Good boy,” I reply, placing my hand on his bottom, warming his skin. “That’s just how I want you….  Now, how many swats do you think you deserve for doing something so dangerous today?”

Julian shudders deliciously and sighs.  The anticipation is torturing him in the most delightful way.  He’s loving every second of this.

“I, ah… I don’t know,” he says softly.  “It wouldn’t be right for me to choose my own punishment, Sevrina.  I’d never want to stop you from giving me what I deserve… I want to be good…”

“What would you say to five?”  I ask, “Will that be enough for such a transgression?”

“I’m at your mercy,” he whispers hoarsely.  “I’ll endure whatever you feel is a fitting punishment without protest.”

“Sevrina knows best, then?” I laugh, patting his backside with a firm hand.

“Yes, Sevrina,” he whispers, stifling a low chuckle. “You know best…”

“Good boy.  Are you ready for directions, then?”

“Yes,” he heaves, “Yes, Sevrina, I’ll do anything…”

“Alright then… When I paddle you, I want you to say _I’m sorry for being reckless.  I’ll be good._   Will you do that?”

“Of course I will.”

“Good.  Are you ready to be punished?”

“Yes, Sevrina.”

I pat his bottom a few more times and then take up the paddle and run the flat, suede-finished end over his backside, wordlessly informing him the paddle will be the next thing touching him.  He is holding his breath in anticipation and I give him the first swat of the paddle, which makes a very loud smacking sound.

“I’m sorry for being reckless,” he heaves, “I’ll be good….”

I watch his response a moment, running my hand up and down his back.

“Was that too hard?” I ask softly, breaking the scene to check in on him.

He laughs softly.  “It was perfect,” he sighs.  “Fuck, it stings… Please continue...”

Again, I brush the paddle against his bottom and then lift it away to deliver another smack.  He groans softly in his throat at the impact.

“I’m sorry for being reckless…. I’ll be good…”

“Good boy,” I whisper, then deliver the third swat. 

“I’m sorry for being reckless,” he groans, “I’ll be good…”

He is becoming very aroused.  He’s almost fully erect and as such I can’t resist a little teasing.  I brush his bottom with the paddle and gently take hold of his shaft, slowly stroking it to full attention.

“ _O Bogi_ ,” he breathes.  I deliver another swing of the paddle.

“I’m sorry for being reckless, I’ll be good….”

“Ilya, spread your legs apart a bit,” I whisper.  He does as he’s told and I swing the paddle the fifth time, making him groan loudly, trying desperately not to thrust into my hand.

“I’m sorry for being reckless,” he heaves, “I’ll be good.”

“That’s a very good boy,” I whisper, and toss the paddle back over to the bed.  He turns his head to look at me and is smiling lustily.  I take my hand from his shaft and reach between his legs from behind to cradle his testicles in my hand.  He shudders deliciously.

“What shall I do now, Sevrina?” he asks softly.  “I’ll be good…”

“I want you to slowly stroke yourself for a moment,” I whisper.  “Very slowly.”

He reaches a hand down and does as he’s told.  He’s so very obedient.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper, stroking his back as I lightly roll his testicles in my hand.  “Your skin is so pretty and pink…  You have no idea how utterly stunning you are…”

“Thank you, Sevrina,” he sighs softly, “But any beauty I have been lucky enough to exhibit is completely eclipsed by you….”

“Oh, thank you, Love,” I whisper.  “I think that deserves a reward…  Turn around and sit on the chair.  Don’t stop stroking yourself.”

Again, he does exactly as he’s told.  I get onto the floor and look at him lovingly, gazing at him as his hand passes up and down over the length of his shaft, achingly slow.  A little glistening fluid is already weeping from the tiny slit at the tip of him, and I begin to tug one of his tall boots off.

“You’re already dripping for me,” I whisper teasingly.  “How shameless you are, you’re so hard…. Aren’t you a beautiful sight?”

He smiles slyly, his cheeks and throat flushing pink again.

“Oh, my precious Sevrina,” he whispers, “With you I get so hard it aches…”

I tug off his other boot and then work his trousers the rest of the way off, and spread his knees open enough to give me access.

“I bet you’d like a release then, if it aches so badly?”

“Yes,” he whispers as I take hold of his erection and begin to stroke him faster.  He groans. “Please…”

“Mmm… That’s a good boy… let me hear all those pretty sounds you make…”

“May I touch you?” He whispers.

“Yes, Ilya, you’ve been so good.”

He brushes my hair with his fingers and watches me stroke him a few long moments. 

“Is this nice?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he heaves.  “Gods, you’re so beautiful.  I love it when you touch me…”

I pull myself up as tall as I can on my knees and beckon him to lean in for a kiss; all the while my hand continues stroking him.

“I want to suck you off,” I whisper against his lips, making him sigh shakily.  “I want you to tell me how it feels and I want you to tell me when you’re going to spend, and if you’re good and follow my directions, I’ll let you spend in my mouth…”

I kiss him and he groans softly against me.

“Tell me what you like,” I whisper as I pull back, and lower myself down over him again.

“I love you,” he whispers shakily.

I smile.  “And I love you Ilya.”

I draw the tip of his erection into my mouth with a soft suck, swirling my tongue around it teasingly.

“Gods,” he whispers, “So warm… Your lips are so pretty…”

I draw him further into my mouth, stimulating the underside of him with the gentle pressure of my tongue, and draw him far enough into my mouth that he brushes the back of my throat.  I make soft little _mmm_ sounds as I bob my head up and down him and he shudders gorgeously at the vibration.

“Oh, Kitten,” he whispers. “Oh, Kitten, that’s so good…. That feels so good…. That feels so good….”

His hands are gentle as he brushes my hair behind my ears, keeping his view of my face clear.  I pull back from him just a moment to look at him, slick with my saliva, and wink at him.

“You’re delicious,” I whisper, stroking him vigorously.  “I want you to know how much I enjoy pleasing you, too, Love…”

He smiles as I take him back into my mouth and I continue to give him deeper entries while he groans and whines little praises of the sensations I give him, hot little whispers of my beauty bubbling up in his throat. After a few moments, he passes a hand up to rake through his hair, and I can tell he’s pulling on it gently.

“Sevrina, I’m very close,” he heaves, “Oh, I’m going to….”

He creases his eyes shut and mewls softly and spurts his salty emissions into my mouth, followed by a louder, wordless exclamation as the sensation of intense pleasure tears through him.  His face flushes and I _mmm_ as two, three, four further sprays of his spend hit the back of my throat as I softly suck and swallow them down.  His eyes open and he looks at me desperately, watching me suck away any remaining spend from his shaft before drawing back, and he pulls me up to him, begging to kiss me.

When his mouth meets mine, he kisses me deeply, his tongue toying with mine, and when we part, he is breathless, coming back for tiny kisses at my bottom lip, his hands shaking slightly at the sides of my face and he laughs softly.

“Please… Kiss me until I can’t taste myself in your mouth anymore,” he begs.  “Please… Your mouth always tastes delicious but right now it’s driving me mad… Please…”

Laughing, we fall into another kiss.  He tugs gently at my arms to get me to stand, and he pulls me into his lap, drawing my mouth down to his again.  He wraps an arm around my back to support me on his lap, and his other hand finds the nape of my neck and draws me deeper.  We kiss this way for several minutes, sweet and deep, and he draws back from me, gazing deeply into my eyes.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” I say, nuzzling him.  “Did you enjoy that?”

“Oh, so much,” he laughs lowly between kisses, “You remembered some things you used to do.... The way you talked to me.... Now what on earth am I to do about you?  You’ve not been pleasured…”

“Oh, I have a plan for that,” I whisper teasingly.  “I need to prepare things for dinner and wash up some dishes.  You’re going to press against me and kiss my neck and whisper all the ways you want to ravage me and get me very frustrated at every opportunity….  And then when I’ve finished what I need to do, I’ll tie you to the bed and ride you until I’ve had my fill, and then we’ll have our dinner and maybe take a bath together before bed…”

“Mmm….” He purrs.  “What should I whisper to you?  Should I tell you how I’d love to lay you on the kitchen table and drip honey onto your nipples so that I can suck it away while I slide my fingers inside you?”

I laugh lowly.  “Don’t stop at that,” I tease.  “I want to hear your every desire… Tell me what we used to do that you want to do again, tell me what we haven’t done that you’d love to do with me…”

“Even that I want to coax your beautiful legs open under the table in the Rowdy Raven and tease you under your skirts until you order me out into the alley to have you against the wall in the shadows?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can tell me all kinds of ways you’d like to get rowdy…”

I kiss him and then get up from his lap, leaving him breathless.

“You should just put your robe on,” I say lowly.  “I’ve got cooking to do, and I will want easy access to you when I’m ready…. You’re practically naked, anyway.”

“Anything you say, my Darling,” he says softly, dreamy smile never leaving his face.


	33. Grace and Dignity

The clinic has been up and running for eleven days.  The last few days I have been running the shop on my own in relative quiet, though both Portia and Mazelinka have stopped by to visit.  I’ve gotten a little sewing done for Julian between patrons, and I sit back and smile to myself.  This life was once so lonely, such a struggle.  With Julian and Morgana back in my life, I feel a sense of peace and fulfilment I haven’t known in my memory.

But perhaps the memories are reachable after all.

I hear a tapping at the window frame and smile to myself when I see it’s Malak.  He comes and goes as he pleases, doesn’t like to be kept inside too much, though he doesn’t mind roosting in the house on cold nights—He has a nesting spot atop my herb shelf in the shop and another in Julian’s office.  He is never too far away from Julian and I, always keeping a watchful eye on us.  I open the window to him and he flutters into the shop, landing on the counter.  There’s a piece of paper wrapped around his leg and secured with a piece of thread.  I give him a scratch beneath his chin as I untie it, and then I unroll the tiny scroll with a smile and read the message contained inside in Julian’s familiar scrawl.

 

 

_Hello, Kitten,_

_I had a moment alone and dreamed up your exquisitely beautiful face and I needed to tell you again how much I adore you.  I will never tire of telling you how wonderful and important you are to me.  You have brought this reckless buffoon such joy and purpose.  I love you._

_Your Ilya_

_  
PS: Nazali says if I’m going to waste time writing love notes, would you bring us some clove oil?  Thank you, Darling!_

I laugh to myself and Malak croaks softly to me, looking up at me expectantly.  I scratch his chin again and tear a small piece of paper from the back of my ledger book to write a response to be taken back to Julian.  I say that I love him very much and I will be by with the clove oil and some sandwiches for their lunch within the hour.  Malak is very patient when I tie the response to his leg, and I kiss the bird on the top of the head before he hops up onto my arm.

“Take this back to Ilya, will you?” I ask him.  “I’ll bring you back some nice scraps from the butcher for the trouble.” 

He caws in response and I smile.  “Thank you, Malak.”

I take him out the front door and he flies away in a flurry of feathers in direction of the clinic.  I smile and turn the sign on the door before heading back inside to make some sandwiches for Julian, Nazali and I.  When I’ve finished making lunches, I wrap them up in linen napkins and put them into my straw bag, preparing to set off for market.  But before I do, I pluck two bottles of clove oil from my herb shelves, and add them into the bag before I lock up.

The market is always busy this time of day.  Selasi doesn’t even have time to chat when I stop by to buy some peach tarts as a surprise treat, because his stall is so busy, but he sends me off with three for the price of two and a wink, a wordless promise to catch up soon.

When I get near to a botanical stall, I’m surprised to see Nazali, extending their arm to wave me down with a smile.  They hand a coin to the vendor and take a large bundle of rose hips into their arms before stepping over to meet me.

“Sevrina, I didn’t realize you’d be coming through the market or else I’d have sent an order via bird,” they laugh. 

“I’d have been happy to get them for you—Are they for the clinic?” I ask.

“Yes,” they reply, “There’s an old Prakran recipe for a rose hip ointment that helps people coping with chronic joint pain.  I wanted to whip some up to have in the clinic.”

“Oh, is it a recipe you can share with me?” I ask.  “I get asked for things like this by some of the shop patrons.”

“I’d be happy to,” They say.  “In fact, I—”

We stop suddenly when we hear a voice screaming for a help.  The cry comes from nearby the foot of the market steps. 

“Help!  Get a doctor!”

Nazali beckons for me to follow her toward the source of the shouting.  At the foot of the steps is a group of nine or ten onlookers, including a frantic fruit vendor who had called for us.

“I’m a doctor,” Nazali calls, “What’s happened?”

The fruit vendor points to a woman on the ground, who is wailing in pain.

“The girl fell,” the fruit vendor explains.  “She’s bleeding and she can’t stand up.”

Nazali nods and shoulders their way through the crowd to the woman on the ground.  She is in a crumpled heap, cradling her ankle, face burning pink with pain, elbows and knees scraped and bloody.    When I get a good look at her, I realize she’s the prostitute who was cruel to me at the tavern—The one Julian called Scarlet the harlot.  My stomach knots up, but she needs help, so I loop my cord belt through the handles of my straw bag and tie it securely to my hip.

Nazali gets down onto her knees in front of her and asks leave to examine her ankle.  Scarlet hesitates, but when Nazali assures her they’re a doctor, she relents.  After a moment or two of gentle prodding, they nod their head.

“I’m reasonably sure you’ve avoided a break,” Nazali says calmly, attempting to reassure her, “But we need to get you to the clinic just south of the town square to have a better look.  Sevrina?”

I stoop down next to Scarlet and lay a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me help,” I say softly.

Her eyes narrow when she recognizes me and she shrugs off my hand. 

“Don’t touch me, you dog,” she growls.

I sigh and bite back my discomfort. 

“Don’t be foolish,” I say gently.  “You need to get to the clinic and it’s more than half a mile’s walk.”

I reach out again to help her up and she strikes me square across the face with such suddenness and force that it stuns me a moment.  My cheek pricks with heat and stings painfully where she struck me.  I can only stare stupidly as Nazali grabs tight hold of her wrists and holds them fast. 

“Do _not_ do that again,” Nazali warns.  “That woman is trying to help you.  You can’t hobble to the clinic on that ankle on your own and I can’t carry you.  We need to each take a side and help support you.  Are you going to cooperate or would you prefer to struggle and prolong your pain?”

Scarlet gives me a dagger-like glare and then sighs with disgust as she lets me take her arm.  Nazali and I help her get to her feet, and she lets out a pained sound.  We each take an arm over our shoulders and support her around her waist in an effort to minimize the weight she needs to bear on her ankle.  Then, together, we begin our walk to the clinic. 

My cheek still stings.

Nazali asks her a few questions about her pain and strength in that ankle as we walk but I can’t pay much attention for the knots in my stomach.  I just want to get to the clinic, drop off the food and go home.  It isn’t long before we turn a corner and we can see the clinic door.

“Sevrina, run ahead and get Ilya,” Nazali says.  “I’ll get her to the door.”

“You’re sure?” I say.

“Yes, don’t worry,” Nazali says.  “Just run ahead.  We won’t be far behind.”

I break away from them to run fast as I can to the clinic door.  My heart is pounding in my ears when I push it open—More from the desperation to break away from this situation and go home than anything else.  But inside the clinic is Julian.  I know in my heart of hearts he will protect my dignity and won’t allow me to be hurt…

“Ilya?” I call in, panting for breath.

“Sevrina, Darling, is it time for lunch already?”  He calls back.

A moment later, Julian appears from his office with a smile on his face, which drops immediately when he sees me.  He rushes to my side quick as a rabbit and begins to look me over.

“Sevrina, you’re bloody,” he gasps. “Are you alright?”

I nod frantically.  “It’s not my blood… She fell in the market stairs…  Come with me—They’re not far.”

Julian follows me out the door and we rush half a block to meet Nazali.  When Julian sees it’s Scarlet who has been injured, he stiffens momentarily and then moves to help.

“Doctor Satrinava,” he says, “Give her here, I’ll carry her the rest of the way.”

When Scarlet hears his voice she looks up and does her best to look coquettish.  It makes my stomach twist

“Jules!” Scarlet breathes as she allows Julian to lift her into his arms.  “Come to my rescue I see?”

“My name isn’t _Jules_ ,” he says coolly as we turn.   “The Count called me Jules and I hated it.  I really think you’d do best to call me _Doctor Devorak_.  And besides that, these two were your rescuers.”

“And she struck Sevrina very hard across the face,” Nazali adds as she holds the door open for us.

“ _What_?”

Julian steps aside to let me enter the clinic ahead of him.  His eyes are glued on me, but I can’t bear the upset expression on his face so I can’t meet his gaze.  We all head into Julian’s office inside and I stand awkwardly to the side with my straw bag.  Julian sits Scarlet gently into a chair and then stands back to look her in the face.

“You were cruel to her and spit on her in the tavern,” he says curtly, “And now you hit her when she’s still gracious enough to help you in spite of it?  Do you know what a petty and bitter child you are?”

My cheeks are burning too much to watch, but Julian turns to me first.  Nazali goes to help Scarlet, but Julian puts out a hand to stop them.

“Doctor Satrinava, I’ll help her,” Julian says softly, “There’s a lot I need to say to that woman.”

Nazali nods their head and backs away, quietly watching from the side of the room.  Julian turns back to me, warmth and concern in his gaze.

“Where did she hit you, Kitten?” He asks.

“You should see to her first, Ilya,” I whisper.  “She’s—”

“Her ankle will still be there when I tend to it,” he says softly.  “Please show me where she hit you.”

I sigh a shaking breath and turn my cheek toward him.  He looks me over a moment and asks me to have a seat in his chair at his desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me she struck you?” He asks softly.

Tears prick in my eyes.

“Helping her is more important, Ilya.”

Julian is quiet a moment.  I still can’t make myself meet his gaze.

“Doctor Satrinava, will you get me a cool compress for Sevrina, please?”  He asks softly.   Nazali nods and goes to the sink at the back to wet a piece of clean linen in cold water.  She wrings it, folds it and hands it to Julian, who tenderly presses it to my cheek.

“Sevrina, use some of that clever magic and make this nice and cold, won’t you?” He says sweetly.  “As cold as you can bear, and hold it here for me for the next few minutes.  I hope that will be enough to stave off any bruising.”

I nod and do as he asks, taking the linen from him and cooling it against my cheek with my magic.  I let my gaze drop meekly to my lap and sit in silence as Julian kisses my forehead and then returns his attention to Scarlet.

“Give me your foot,” he says coolly as he gets to is knee on the floor in front of her.  She lifts her foot from the floor and he rests it on his knee as he removes her slipper.  He feels the bone of her ankle and asks her to press her toes into his hand, then he hooks his fingers around the tops of her toes and asks her to pull back against them.  A few more tests of its mobility and Julian is confident in a diagnosis.

“A sprain,” he says, “No doubt a painful one, but the bone is perfectly sound.  You’ll need to rest it a week and if you’re careful on it for a month you will be good as new.”

He rises from the floor to go to the sink at the back, then fills a small basin with cool water and brings over two linen rags.  The first, he throws over his shoulder to keep it out of the way, and the second, he dips into the water to set about cleaning her cuts and scrapes.

“You and I were never going to become something, Scarlet,” he says with a quiet sternness as he wrings the water from the linen.  “Even had I not reunited with Sevrina, you and I were never going to become better acquainted.  Is that understood?”

Scarlet says nothing, and just barely nods her head.

“You’ve given her abuse even in the moment she chose to bypass your cruelty and help in your moment of need,” Julian continues.  “Perhaps you can see now what kind of compassionate and loving spirit she has—Something you clearly lack.  You should be ashamed of yourself.”

He takes hold of her arm and looks over her scraped and bloody elbow before heaving a sigh.

“And moreover,” he continues as he gently cleans her scrapes, “I can assure you she has endured more hardship than you can fathom, that she and I have suffered through more pain than a human heart should be able to bear in order to be together.  In time it will be to her that I am a husband and with her that I father children.  And if it were not to be with her, it would be with no one at all.”

He gently pats dry her cuts with the dry linen, then stands again to retrieve a bandage to wrap and support her ankle.

“I’d meant to go to the Rowdy Raven to speak to Barth about you,” Julian says bluntly.  “I was going to ask him to bar you from the tavern after your little stunt in the toilets making fun of Sevrina’s scars.  But getting this clinic open kept me from having the time, and I don’t think I’ll do that now… After the benevolent goodness she showed you today even after you struck her, I suspect you will be feeling very small in the same room as her from now on.  You ought to be ashamed.”

Scarlet says nothing, but her cheeks are burning pink.  I turn myself to face Julian’s desk and wrap my free arm around myself.  Nazali sees me do this and moves to put a comforting hand on my shoulder.  They stay silent and I listen as Julian continues to put Scarlet in her place as he wraps the supporting bandage around her ankle.

“Keep your cuts clean and you’ll be just fine,” he says in conclusion.

I hear Scarlet sigh deeply to herself, “All these cuts are going to put off patrons.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t have any more I can do for them,” Julian says softly.  “They need time to heal over.”

I turn my head and look at Julian.

“I can help,” I offer, rising from the chair and setting aside my cold compress.  “It’s not my strongest suit, but I can do a little healing.”

“No,” Scarlet says, but there’s no vehemence in her tone.  This time she feels unworthy of the help.

“I insist,” I say softly as I take a step nearer.  “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

I crouch on the floor in front of her and let my hand hover over her still-seeping skinned knee.  After a moment’s concentration, the wound smooths over and I direct my energy to her other knee, and then to her elbows and the palms of her hands.  Julian is standing back against the wall and watching me with a soft smile.  I look up at Scarlet.

“Is that a little better?” I ask.

She barely nods, but doesn’t keep my gaze.  I step back and turn to Julian.

“Will you give her my lunch?” I ask softly.  “I’ve packed enough for three and was going to stay, but… I’ll be back shortly.  My straw bag is on your desk—Please eat.  I won’t be long.”

Julian gives me a quizzical look but squeezes my hand and nods his head.

“As you wish, my Darling,” he says lowly and with that, I leave the clinic.

               

I return a short time later with a large string bag of food from the market and a hired rickshaw.  I ask the driver to wait outside of the clinic and I push the door open and head inside.  Nazali is looking over a man with a bloody hand with a young son looking on in worry.  Nazali comforts the boy while tending to his father, and smiles when they see me.  I head back into Julian’s office with the bag.

“Sevrina?”  Julian asks, shoving the last of his bread into his mouth.  “Where have you been?”

I sigh and hand Scarlet the string bag.

“I figured if you fell on the stairs you didn’t get what you needed at market,” I say sheepishly.  “I didn’t want you to go hungry.  There’s some fruit, bread and some cured meats there…  It should be enough that you can rest your ankle properly for a few days.  And I’ve hired a rickshaw to get you home.”

Scarlet’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t have money to…”

“I’ve paid,” I say, silencing her, “But he won’t wait forever.”

Julian gets up from his seat and helps Scarlet to her feet, leading her out the door to the rickshaw.  I follow and hand the driver an additional coin as Julian helps Scarlet into the seat.  After a moment, the rickshaw drives off, and Julian takes me into his arms.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“I feel like crying,” I reply.

He kisses the crown of my head and squeezes me tight against him.

“I didn’t give her your peach tart,” he says softly.  I start to laugh against his chest and he pulls back enough to kiss my forehead.

“Come inside and let me have a good look at your cheek,” he says softly.  “’I’ll do my best to cheer you up.”

I nod and follow him back through to his office.  Julian sets me into his chair again and smiles.

“I want to show you something,” he says with a grin.

I look at him expectantly and he holds up a hand.  I can feel his magic tingling in the air, and near his palm coalesces a faint swirl of white light, which he grows to the size of a plum.

“Ilya,” I breathe.

“I’ve been practicing,” he says softly, guiding the light over near my face to have a good look at my cheek. 

“Very well done,” I say sweetly.  He kisses my forehead.

“I want to make you proud,” he says softly. 

“You do every day,” I say as he looks at my cheek.

“Damn,” he whispers, “You are going a little purple in a spot on your upper cheekbone… She really hit you hard, didn’t she?”

I purse my lips and sigh, and drop my gaze to my lap. 

“She did,” I admit.

“Is it giving you any pain?” He asks.

“No,” I say softly.  “Not physically, anyway.”

“She’s lucky I wasn’t there to see it,” He sighs.  “I’d have left her to hobble home.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” I say softly.  “You’re a good doctor.  Even if you don’t particularly like the patient.”

“Well I guess Lucio prepared me for _something_ ,” Julian says with a laugh, then extinguishes his orb of light, then bends to kiss me.  When we part, he squeezes my hands and smiles fondly at me.

“I know that couldn’t have been easy for you,” he murmurs.  “I’m sure your capacity for grace and dignity and compassion is unmatched in all of Vesuvia.”

I shrug.  “I believe in kindness.  I would never treat her the way she treated me.”

“And that’s why I love you so deeply,” he whispers.  “You teach me how to be better.  You teach the _world_ how to be better… I don’t know how you could stand to be so generous with her.”

“I don’t imagine being a prostitute is easy,” I explain.   “I had the means to help.”

Julian crouches in front of me and folds his hands with mine on my lap.

“You didn’t deserve to be hit like that,” he says seriously.  “You know that, don’t you?”

I nod, but don’t say anything.  Julian raises my fingers to his lips.

“I don’t think she’ll bother you again after this,” he says softly, sliding me my peach tart.  “That was a very humbling experience for her, I’m sure…  I’d have preferred her to apologize to you, but she seemed pretty dumbfounded.”

“What did she say when I was gone?”  I ask, biting into my tart.

“Not very much,” Julian says, getting to his feet and then leaning on his desk.  “She told me she liked me because I didn’t treat her differently than anyone else in the tavern because of her profession.  I told her that she should pay attention to Beric, the concertina player at the Raven.  I told her I see a twinkle in his eyes when he looks at her.  He’s a decent man and makes a living cleaning fish at the South End fishmongers, plays with the band at night for fun, but he’s a quiet sort—I think he’s too shy to speak to her.  And he’s not a bad looking fellow, either, although I can hardly blame her eye going to me.”

He winks and I laugh.  I lick the last of the crumbs of my tart from my fingertips and look up at him fondly.

“Well, you are terribly handsome, Doctor Devorak.”

He looks at me quizzically and laughs.

“ _Doctor_ _Devorak_?” He asks.  “You’ve never called me that outside of the trial...”

“Oh but I _need_ a doctor,” I say, my voice low and sultry.  “I’m having unbearable pains in my heart… Can you help me?”

Julian’s mouth quirks up into a smile, and one of his eyebrows arches in amusement.

“What are your symptoms?”  He asks softly.  “This could be very serious.”

“It starts to beat fast when I see a flash of auburn hair,” I say softly, “And it aches terribly when I hear Nevivonian being whispered in my ear…”

“I see… May I run a scientific test?” He asks.

“Of course, Doctor,” I say, simpering coyly, “If you need to.”

He bends until his mouth is just by my ear, and whispers, “ _Ty delayesh' moy chlen tak sil'no_ , Sevrina.  _Ya khochu tebya dlya moyey zheny_.”

I don’t know what he’s said, but if I know him, it was lewd.  The low tone of his voice is all I need to be sure of that.  I let out a sigh and a low _mmm._ He nods thoughtfully.

“I see… Are you experiencing any other symptoms?” He asks.

“An aching thrum between my legs, Doctor,” I whisper.  “A need to be touched.”

“Oh goodness, I’m afraid this is _very s_ erious,” he says lowly.  “I’m afraid it will require prolonged treatment to be administered intermittently for the rest of your life…. It’s an incurable condition called _lovesickness_.  I suffer it, myself—I understand the condition intimately.”

“How to ease it, then?” I ask softly, pressing my hands into his chest.

“As luck would have it, I make house calls,” he says thoughtfully.  “I’ll stop by your home after the clinic closes this evening and administer your treatment.”

“And what is the treatment?” I ask softly, struggling to keep my expression neutral enough to play the game with such a promise delighting me.

“It requires you to take off your clothes, so it must be done in private,” he says seriously.  “But your treatment can be administered to you manually, orally or internally, it’s your preference… I will walk you through all of these possibilities this evening.”

“It’s maddening,” I whisper.  “The aching is _maddening_ , Doctor Devorak.”

“Well, I can give you a small dose now to tide you over until my house call,” he suggests.

“Please,” I whisper.

He draws me into a deep, passionate kiss, not holding back even the smallest bit.  This is how he kisses me when his lust is at a peak of neediness, when he begins to beg for entrance into my body.  When we part we are both breathless, and with the heat in my cheeks, I know he is not the only one blushing.

“There, now,” he says lowly.  “Is that a help?”

“Yes, Doctor,” I sigh.

He smiles and winks at me.

“I’ll be home like a shot when the clinic closes,” he says softly.  “I _promise_.”

“Don’t be too long,” I whisper, and kiss him before heading home.  “You’ll find your ailing patient in her bed.”

 

Five days later, Asra and Morgana are home again after a luxurious honeymoon.  We’ve shut the shop and are heading out to see Muriel.  Although it broke my heart to do it, I explained to Julian why I needed to go without him, at least at first.  He wears his heart on his sleeve and couldn’t disguise the hurt in his eyes, so I told him when I returned I would make it up to him with a night of drinking and dancing at the Rowdy Raven.  He agreed and after a kiss, promised not to sulk, but if I know my Julian, he’ll be needy this evening when I get home.

Asra, Morgana and I walk through the forest on the edge of the city for what seems like ages.  My nerves percolate—Muriel didn’t seem too terribly happy to see me at the wedding.  I don’t feel confident that I should be here.

“Do you think he’ll be upset I’m here?”  I ask softly.

“Oh, Ilya will brood and pout, but he knows you love him,” Morgana replies.  “Don’t worry so much.  He’ll light up again as soon as he sees your face come through the door.”

I laugh softly.

“No, I mean… Will Muriel be upset that I’ve come with you?”

“Of course not, Sevrina,” Asra says reassuringly.  “I know that he has missed you.  I don’t know what you remember about him, but he isn’t the best at expressing himself.  He’s withdrawn and not too talkative.  You and he always kind of wordlessly understood each other.  I’m sure that will all fall back into place.”

We make a turn and come upon the backside a hut.  I have a vague memory of this hut—It was raining and I was with Julian… We went inside and started a fire… 

When we round the front of the hut, Muriel is outside, plucking a pair of partridges.  Asra shouts to him and he raises his head.  His lips quirk up a little at the corners into a not-quite smile, but he does look happy to see Asra and Morgana as they bound toward him. I feel hesitant and stay back… I don’t anticipate being welcomed.  My stomach twists. Muriel embraces them both and when they part, Morgana is laughing, Asra smiling and Muriel listens before he catches sight of me out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a tense moment.  His shoulders slump as I twist my fingers into my sash.  Asra says something to him, but I don’t hear what, and then Muriel motions for me to come to them.  I feel tears pricking my eyes as I step forward and when I reach them, Muriel awkwardly pats my head.

“Will you come and sit with us?” He asks.

I smile and wipe my eyes.

“Yes.”

Muriel gathers his game and we head inside the hut at his insistence.  He hangs his birds up near the door and Asra starts to bustle about and returns to the group with cups of water.  The furniture is sparse and so Morgana gathers up some furs and we sit on the floor in a circle.

Inanna pokes her head into the hut and huffs happily as she sees us, coming in and giving everyone a good sniff and a lick across the face.  She pauses before inspecting me closer and gives Muriel a look.

“Yes, she’s back,” he says, and Inanna circles excitedly before covering me in licky kisses.

I laugh and scratch her behind her ears until she settles down, and she lays down on the floor with her head on my knee, and a I feel another memory pass over me, another brief flash; the four of us, all about ten years younger, sitting in much the same way.  I was sewing a patch pocket onto a shirt for Muriel…

Tears well up in my eyes and I softly sigh.

“Rina, are you alright?” Morgana asks.

I nod and smile.  “This is familiar,” I say softly.  “I remember a little.”

“You’re remembering things?” Muriel asks quietly.

“She’s been getting little flashes of memories,” Asra explains, “But only one full memory has reached her.”

Muriel looks surprised.  “What memory?”

“Ilya giving me peonies,” I explain.  “Telling me how much he loves me.”

Muriel’s expression sours at the mention of Julian, but I don’t press the subject.

“Have you tried scrying?” Muriel suggests.  “There are memory spells you can use if you scry… You can use a crystal or a mirror but I think a dish of clear water works best… I’ve not seen it used for someone with complete amnesia before, but for little things it is effective, so it is worth a try.”

“That’s a good idea,” Asra says.  “We’ll try it, Muriel.”

“If it doesn’t work, you could do a memory walk,” he suggests.  “It requires much more energy.  Almost a hypnosis…”

Muriel gets up from his space on the floor and rummages around a shelf in the corner.  He produces a book, and hands it to Morgana.

“When I was looking for memory spells to be forgotten, I ran across many more for remembering,” he explains.  “That book will tell you how to do the memory walks… But it is intense.  Retrieving a profound memory could knock Sevrina back with exhaustion for a day or more.  Be careful.”

“We will,” Morgana assures him.  “Thank you, Muri.  This is a brilliant help.”

“Thank you, Muriel,” I say softly.  “I want to remember you.”

Muriel gives a small smile and averts his eyes.  It isn’t uncomfortable when it slips into silence.  We sit in quiet together for a little wile when Muriel shuffles up from his seat on the floor and announces he wants to pull some vegetables from the garden he keeps.  He nods when I ask if I can help him, and he hands me a shallow basket.  Morgana and Asra stay in the hut with Inanna to give Muriel and I a moment to talk in private together.

We walk into the forest about a hundred metres until we reach a small clearing.  I see sprouts from onions in one patch of dirt, stalks of beans and a squash vine.  Muriel does very well for himself living self-sufficiently.  He asks me to pick some beans and I step over to the beanstalks while he digs for potatoes.

“Are you staying for supper?” he asks softly.

“I can’t, today,” I explain, “I promised to be home in time to spend the evening with Ilya.”

Muriel huffs in annoyance at the mention of Julian and I feel my stomach twist. 

“Muriel… Why do you dislike him so much?” I ask cautiously.  “He would love to be your friend.”

Muriel pulls a large potato from the ground and begins to brush off the dirt with his hand.

“He’s loud,” Muriel says softly.  “And he talks too much.  And he… He let you die.”

Tears spring to my eyes and I do my best to blink them back.

“He couldn’t control the plague, Muriel,” I say softly.  “He almost died of it himself.”

“Asra couldn’t find him to help you,” Muriel argues.

“He was in a hidden place trying to find the cure,” I say softly.  “You were in those dungeons yourself to let him out when Lucio infected him and held him captive.  He could not have prevented my death, Muriel—There was no cure.”

Muriel goes quiet, seeming to think it over.

“Lucio infected him?” he asks after a pause.

“Yes,” I explain.  “Lucio force fed him a beetle shortly after I died… He suffered.”

For a moment, I see a flicker of sympathy across his face.  I can think of no one that Lucio had made to suffer more than Muriel, so this must have struck a chord with him.  He quietly thinks it over and then sighs to himself.

“He’s annoying,” Muriel says, as if deciding that’s the only reason to dislike him now that he better understands Julian’s position in all that horror.  I laugh softly.  I can accept that for now.

When we’ve filled the basket with beans, wild onions and potatoes, we return to the hut to see Asra and Morgana sitting close and kissing deeply.  Muriel turns as red as a beet when we interrupt their intimate moment, and I laugh softly.  Morgana and Asra have never been ashamed of their passion for one another and I’ve seen them kiss this way many times.

“Why do you do that all the time?”  Muriel asks in an exasperated tone.

“Do what?” Asra asks.  “Kiss?”

Muriel shifts his weight awkwardly and I take the basket of vegetables into the hut to begin cleaning them for him, smirking to myself.

“Have you never been kissed, Muriel?” Morgana asks with a laugh.

“No,” Muriel says in a tone indicating the preposterousness of the question.  “Why would I want to do that?”

“It feels good,” Asra says.  Morgana pulls away from Asra and steps up to Muriel.

“Let me kiss you, once,” she says with a smile.  “Just so you know how it feels.”

Muriel is blushing to the tips of his ears and looks at Asra as if he’s afraid of offending.

“It’s alright, Muriel,” he says, following her over to him.  “Just close your eyes.”

Muriel stiffens as Morgana brushes his hair back.

“I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to,” she says, “But you should know how it feels just once.”

Muriel nods his head and Morgana kisses him sweetly on the lips. Muriel doesn’t move to kiss back so it’s a little awkward, but when she draws back, he struggles to look her in the eye for his embarrassment.

“It’s alright, Muriel,” Asra says, “Don’t be afraid to kiss back.  We’re all friends.”

Muriel nods his head and then Asra leans in to kiss him.  It’s still very awkward to watch but Morgana just smiles as she watches them.  I try not to laugh, and when they part, Muriel looks down at the floor.

“You can go now,” he says awkwardly, and we all laugh.  Morgana and Asra both hug him and he even starts to laugh in spite of himself.

 

When I return home the sun is still up, although it’s low in the sky. I hear music when I open the door, and I smile to myself, although the melody is downright mournful.  Julian must have bought a vielle today, and he is in need of some cheering up.

I call up the stairs to him as I lock the door behind me, but the music doesn’t stop.  He hasn’t heard me.  I call again when I begin to ascend the stairs and then the music comes to a halt.

“Sevrina?” he says.

“Yes, Julian, I’m home,” I say, and then I reach the landing to the flat.  He’s sitting on the couch and the vielle is in his lap.  He looks down, even a little ashamed.

“You finally bought a vielle,” I say brightly, trying to lift the mood.

“I did,” he says.  “I hope that’s alright.”

I sit beside him and put my hand consolingly on his knee.

“Cheer up, Ilya,” I say softly.  “Of course it’s alright that you bought a vielle.  I wanted you to have one.”

He gives me a half smile and nods.

“Ilya, are you upset with me?” I ask.

He sighs dejectedly.

“I know regaining you past is so important,” he says softly, “I just want to be there with you every step of the way.”

“Oh, Ilya, I want that, too,” I say softly.  “I didn’t mean for you to feel excluded… I hated that you weren’t there today. But I want you to understand that Muriel is very cautious of other people.  He suffered tremendous abuse under Lucio and he only trusts very few…   He can be hostile to outsiders, and I don’t want to see you treated that way.  It will take some time for him to welcome someone new.”

Julian nods.

“I understand, Kitten,” he says softly.  “And I _do_ hope it was a good reunion.”

“It was,” I explain.  “He had some ideas for helping me reach my memories.  He gave Morgana a book of memory spells to look over.  I may be even nearer to getting more memories of you and I.”

Julian nods but still struggles to meet my gaze

“Oh, please don’t sulk, my Love,” I whisper, taking the vielle and settling it aside on the couch cushion.  “How can I cheer you up?”

I pull myself over him astride his lap and run my fingers through his curls, nuzzling his nose.

“That, ah... That’s a good start,” he says, finally able to smile a little.

I kiss him deeply and he groans lowly in his throat, hungry hands wandering up and down the entire back side of me, and I pull back to look at him.

“Do you want to make love before or after we go out?” I ask laughingly.

“Both,” he laughs.  “Quickly now, and slower when we’re home.”

 

We walk to the Rowdy Raven still giggling and beaming, hand in hand.  Julian is feeling much better now and we’re looking forward to a wonderful night out together.

“Gods, you’re a tigress,” he teases in low tones.  “The scratches down my back are still sore… Have you bruised me?”

 I chuckle as he waggles his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t think you’ll bruise,” I laugh.

“You’ll have to try harder, then,” he teases. 

When we step into the tavern, the revelry is in full swing.  Music and dancing and frivolity in the warm, friendly glow of the light.  Barth smiles happily at us when we reach the bar, and Julian orders a venison meat pie with vegetables for us to share along with our drinks.  There is a booth available at the side of the tavern under a window, and I go to claim it for us as Julian waits for the drinks.

I watch as he shares a laugh with Barth at the bar.  Barth must have commented on the latest love-bite on Julian’s neck, as I see him pulling his collar back up as they laugh.  I shrug off my shawl and get comfortable in the booth as Julian

Julian brings the drinks to the table and sits across from me with a smile on his face.

“I keep thinking about that night you wandered across me here during your investigation,” he sighs, “Picking burrs out of your hair, staring at your lips…”

“I was captivated by you,” I say softly.  “I’d have stayed with you all night if Malak hadn’t come in screaming.”

The smile never leaves his face as we talk about the storm of identical thoughts swimming through our heads that night. 

Our food arrives at the table at the hands of one of the barmaids, and we thank her profusely.  We tuck into our delicious, hot meal, and decide to dance after we’ve given our stomachs a chance to settle.  I’m still learning to match a lot of names and faces as people come over to say hello to Julian, but the entire atmosphere is jovial, lively and as drinks continue to pour, a little rowdier.  Julian paces his salty bitters to the point he is feeling light and happy, perhaps speaks a little more ardently to me than when he’s entirely sober, but never gets to the point he’s uncoordinated or sloppy.

“Dance on the tables with me,” he laughs, “I want everyone to see that I belong to the most beautiful woman in Vesuvia…”

The band begins to play music and Julian continues to cajole me into dancing. I promise him I’ll dance after one more drink, and excuse myself to the toilets.

When I’ve finished and open the door to the toilet stall, I stop in my tracks.  Scarlet is here, standing over the washing basin and checking her makeup in the mirror.  She hasn’t seen me.  I back into the stall again and settle my breath.  I’ll just keep my head down.  I’ll just walk past her.  Julian is out in the tavern—Just get back to Julian and it will be fine.  I have had three years’ experience making myself unnoticed—Getting past one woman and quickly back into the tavern should be easy…

When I open the door to the stall again, and step out, she raises her head and looks right at me.  I feel like my stomach could drop out onto the floor.  I avert my eyes to the floor and slip out as quickly as possible, saying nothing, and stepping back into the bright, loud frivolity of the tavern.

I hurry back to the table and resume my seat, across from Julian, but then scoot around the bend to sit again at his side, boxed against the wall and out of sight of the hall to the toilets.  Our plates have been cleared and there are fresh tankards of drinks on the table.  Julian notices my nervous manner and gives me a look of concern.

“Sevrina, is something wrong?” he asks, putting a protective arm around me.

I settle against his torso and sigh.

“Scarlet is here,” I explain.  “I passed her in the toilets before she could say anything to me… I’m all nerves.”

He turns his head to kiss me.

“Oh, Kitten, don’t worry,” he says softly.  “She won’t hurt you.  I promise.”

He does his best to still my anxieties and with a few minutes patience, I calm my nerves, determined not to let her ruin another night. 

We finish our drinks and then get up to dance.  I notice uneasily that Scarlet is perched on a stool at the back by the door, watching over the crowd and looking for patrons.  I do my best not to let my anxieties into my head and resolve to focus on Julian, his laughing face, his warmth and energy.  I lose myself in him.  As we dance he draws me close, lifts and spins me.  We kiss on the dance floor, unashamed in this place that welcomes uninhibited displays of affection, and after a few dances, Julian suggests with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrow that we get home so that I can carry out the second promise I made to him this evening.

When we head for the door, I do my best to hide in the crook of his arm, my shawl high around my face, but it’s no use—Julian is too easy to pick out of the crowd, and Scarlet sees us.

“Hello, Doctor,” she says sheepishly.  “Hello, Sevrina.”

“Hello, Scarlet,” Julian says cautiously.  “How is your ankle?”

“I’m still going easy on it, but it’s much better,” she explains, casting a glance to me.  “I wanted to tell you, Sevrina, your dress is a very pretty colour.”

I give her a small smile, and thank her for the compliment.


End file.
